


Old Soul Reborn

by Glaux_Bryonia



Category: Bleach, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Crossover, Gen, Harry is not immediately BAMF, Reincarnation, Slow Build, not your usual reincarnation fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-04-10 16:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 54,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4399301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glaux_Bryonia/pseuds/Glaux_Bryonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The process of reincarnation isn't perfect, especially when it comes to the reincarnation of a soul that was very old and powerful during its previous life. Harry is a living example of this phenomenon, but it is not as great a blessing as you might expect. </p><p>Death always takes its toll, and it's a heavy one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> … When I started this it was supposed to be a oneshot; just something short to get rid of the idea so I could return to my other works soon. I guess that says a lot about my mind and my ability to estimate the length of my stories. 
> 
> To keep the length manageable, I will be skipping a lot of canon stuff. Because of this the story might be confusing if you haven't read/watched both Harry Potter and Bleach. 
> 
> Enjoy.

 

It had been a day like any other. Uncle Vernon had demanded breakfast, and had made snide remarks about unfortunate Normal People having to put up with Good-For-Nothing Freaks. As usual,  _s_ _omething_ had gone wrong and Harry had been locked up in the cupboard under the stairs for the rest of the day.

It had been a day like any other, except that on that unremarkable day, while Harry had been lying in the darkness of the cupboard trying not to cry at the unfairness of it all, something unexplainable had happened.

Meditation had been a constant in little Harry's life long before he ever learned the meaning of the word. He was used to getting locked up for hours on end, and focusing on his own body, his breath and heartbeat, helped soothe the pain of rejection, and turned what would have been mind-numbing boredom into a peaceful floating, dreamlike state of mind.

He had fallen asleep with the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears more often than he could count, but that day had been the first of many when he would dream so  _oddly._

That day he had been six years old and had, for the first time, been forced to acknowledge his family  _hated_ him, utterly, simply because he was somehow different from them.

His grief had inspired a wish, a fervent, heartfelt yearning to be somewhere where he could be something other than The Freak. A place where he could escape the pain of his bruises and his Uncle's harsh words. A place just for himself, were no one would be able to reach him.

It was as if that deep, desperate wish created a path within in mind, leading to a door he hadn't been able to sense before. A door that glowed faintly at the end of a long, dark tunnel, enticing and mysterious, calling for him to come and find what was beyond the dark. For a while Harry had lingered before the tunnel's opening in indecision. It was something unknown, a place in his mind he had never explored before. Far more like a dream than any other hazy images his mind had provided during his meditation before.

A dream about a door, at the end of a long tunnel.

But doors existed to be opened, right? If this was a dream, then there would be something behind it; it would be more than just an image.

Peaceful floating in shadows soothed his pain, yet it paled next to finding something to  _do._ And it had been so very long, since Harry had found something to do that wouldn't get ruined by his family in some way or another.

The Dursleys wouldn't –  _couldn't –_ ruin this. It was just a dream after all.

And so, in the end, on an utterly unremarkable day, Harry chose to move down the tunnel, and opened the door at the end.

Some lessons in life you only learn after they have become important. One of such lessons is that sometimes, it are the simple, seemingly insignificant decisions that turn out to be the most life changing of all.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

At first, the door merely seemed to provide access to an even more soothing, quiet darkness. Nestled within that darkness, Harry could forget everything that ever hurt him, if only for a little while. Consequently, Harry found himself climbing increasingly often into the safety of the shadows behind the door, looking for reprieve and finding it in the shadows' embrace.

Yet the more he entered the shadows, the more they became something else entirely.

Slowly, day by day, silent and subtle as the stars moving across the night sky, the odd dream  _changed._

At first it was just the tunnel. Slowly the roughly hewn walls smoothed to polished perfection, rapidly followed by the floor and ceiling, until the tunnel no longer resembled a tunnel, but instead a long corridor with only one door at the end of it.

Soon after, the darkness behind the door followed. It lightened and started showing colors and variations in brightness. The first time Harry opened his eyes and actually really  _saw_ something, he was inexplicably reminded of branches and leaves. He liked the change, since he seldom had the chance to enjoy such a sight. Most of the time Dudley found him before he could.

But the changes didn't stop there. It was many months – almost seven – after Harry had first found the door that he finally managed to truly discern what the darkness had turned into. It was like waking up in a sunlit field of sweet-scented grass. When he sat up and let his eyes take in his surroundings, Harry couldn't keep his jaw from dropping, because honestly, he hadn't expected the dream to turn out like  _this._

It was a garden unlike any he had seen before.

Once upon a time the place must have been breathtakingly beautiful, with elegant trees, brightly-colored flowers, beds full of small white stones that gleamed in the sunlight, odd lantern-like sculptures, paths made with large, flat stepping stones, and large ponds connected with little rivers that were crossed by bright red, wooden bridges in elegant arcs. When Harry woke up in one of the many fields the garden was still beautiful, but it had grown wild; the beds with white stones overrun by flowering weeds, the stepping stones of the paths almost completely hidden by long grass, and the arched bridges looking ill-maintained, their red paint chipped and faded, revealing the weathered wood beneath.

Frankly, that was the moment when Harry truly fell in love with the dream. He had liked it before, but upon discovering the Garden it became the most important, most treasured thing in his life. It was peaceful, as if nothing in the world could harm him in that place. The surroundings were gorgeous, with a kind of wild, timeless beauty that made him wish to see how it had been before it had been abandoned. Imagination only took him so far.

Harry was alone there, but that hardly ever bothered him. He barely knew what it was  _not_ to be alone. He only wished the weather could be better; it was almost always overcast, sometimes with harsh winds and even storms lashing through the foliage, ripping at delicate flowers as if they wanted to shred them. Most of the time the storms happened when he was particularly upset, matching his moods. All he could do was wait them out when they happened, hiding beneath the large trees or the dense bushes, or in little hidden cave he had found near one of the biggest waterfalls. He never feared the storms, finding the violence of nature almost soothing while he lay curled up on the ground, as if the howling winds and roaring thunder gave voice to his own feelings, bleeding of the building pressure within him so he wouldn't have to let it out himself. Crying and screaming never fixed anything.

Unlike in the real world, Harry was never cold, even though he was always in the clothes he arrived in, which were little more than an oversized shirt and pants. Sometimes the storms passed after a few hours, and other times he woke up from the dream with the echoes of the thunder still roaring in his ears.

The Garden was what gave Harry the strength to face his family's ire day after day, to ignore the painful words and harsh blows, to carry on and hope one day they would look past their anger to see  _Harry_. Not Freak, not Boy;  _Harry._

He just wanted to be their nephew. To be loved.

The Garden was his refuge whenever they proved they didn't.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

It was a few days after he had decided to really do some exploring, that Harry found the House.

It was a house unlike any he'd ever seen before, though it definitely looked like it was built for someone with a lot of money. Maybe one of those film stars Uncle Vernon always complained about. Those people were rich and always lived in ridiculously large, spacious houses. The House looked like it would have suited them. It had ornate, angular roofs, walls made of dark, carved wood, white plaster, and large panels that were made out thin wooden frames covered with of some kind of paper, and what looked like strange woven mats on the floor wherever Harry managed to peer inside. The House wasn't built in a neat rectangular shape like his Uncle's house; instead it almost looked like a lot of smaller buildings of the same design all clustered together.

It was also  _huge_. As in, big-enough-to-be-a-hotel huge. Big enough to be a  _palace._

Not that Harry had ever seen a real hotel or palace. But a hotel had to have enough room so a lot of people could stay at the same time, and Harry had seen enough pictures of palaces whenever Aunt Petunia was looking for inspiration for the living room to know that those were really big too. Plus the house was pretty enough to be a palace, at least for someone who didn't like flashy decorations.

Or rather, the House  _used_ to be pretty enough to be a palace. Time had not been kind to it, and the majestic building had fallen into disrepair, looking as abandoned as the Garden. The wood was weather-beaten, there were tears in the paper of the panels, and quite a few shingles from the roofs were missing. Yet despite the poor state the House was in, it still radiated an ancient, elegant grandeur, and it was still stately and distinguished despite its derelict appearance. It was like an old, wise man on his deathbed, body slowly withering away as the elder graciously accepted his fate, solemn and dignified as a king out of legends. It had a presence to it that spoke of past greatness. Faded, but not yet far enough gone to be forgotten.

It took Harry many visits to work up the courage to go inside, despite that there were at least three places where the wood-and-paper panels were pushed aside like sliding doors to reveal the rooms beyond and he'd never seen an other living soul in this dream.

When he finally did dare to enter he discovered that the floors really were covered with finely woven mats. Harry took care to wipe the dirt from his feet before he entered. Aunt Petunia always got mad when he forgot, and he didn't want to dirty the mats. Something told him that that would be as bad as strewing dirt in Aunt Petunia's clean kitchen.

The insides were empty, not a single piece of furniture to be seen. There were some inbuilt closets and benches, but nothing that wasn't already part of the building. It was kind of eerie.

It was also quick to become his new favorite hideaway during the storms. Which there were a lot of. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had started heaping chore after chore on him, even really heavy ones, and every time he failed to complete them to their satisfaction he was punished. Somehow, his hurt frustration seemed to whip the storms into a seething frenzy.

Harry was very glad he had found the House. Exploring the empty rooms and halls became his new pastime every time the storms raged outside, replacing his old one which had mainly consisted of meditating to the almighty cacophony of the storm and watching how it raged across the sky. He'd already discovered he could get an awesome view of the lightning and the roiling clouds from one of the upper floors, almost as good as standing outside and without the drawback of getting drenched. And whenever Harry got bored with roaming the halls or watching the lightning dance, well, playing alone was nothing new. In fact, he was quite good at it.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

It was during one of his many explorations that Harry found a locked door in a hidden corner of one of the ground floor corridors. It was such an odd thing it had made him pause and stare at it almost incredulously for a while. None of the other doors had been locked. To be honest, as far as he could remember the other doors didn't even  _have_ locks.

But this one had a lock. An old one, with a relatively big keyhole. It was weathered, but not all that rusted. Harry reckoned he had a decent chance of getting it open.

It took Harry eight days to decide whether or not he would give it a try. On one hand, it had probably been locked for a reason. On the other, the House was  _abandoned._ He'd never seen anything that even  _hinted_ at the existence of an owner.

Plus, this was all a dream.

Granted, opening locked doors in dreams might lead to nightmares, but it wasn't as if it would affect him that badly when he was awake. Surely the next time he dreamed the door would simply be locked again?

Seven-year-old Harry wondered why it was even an issue. He loved the dream, really, but he had explored the entire house already and the room behind the locked door was the only place he hadn't been yet. His curiosity gnawed at him and his thoughts persistently returned to the question of what could be hidden behind that lock.

And that was, in the end, what got him to step past his ingrained mannerisms to leave places people didn't want him to go alone. The Dursleys had been thorough in teaching him not to poke his nose in into other people's stuff on the pain of death, but this was a  _dream. His_ dream. The Dursleys would never know. They wouldn't even  _want_ to. They wouldn't punish him if he decided to try to break in.

It took Harry over a month of daily, active and thorough searching to conclude that there wasn't a key. He'd searched every nook and cranny of the House, and even checked every statue and bridge he could find in the Garden, but he had found  _nothing_.

Harry huffed, frustrated, and glared for the umpteenth time at the lock. If the door hadn't been made of thick, solid wood – which was another unusual thing about it – he would have tried breaking the door down instead of wrestling with the lock. But the door  _was_ made of thick, solid wood, and Harry was a short, scrawny kid, so the only way Harry would have a chance of breaking it open would be when he managed to get his hands on an axe or something.

So.

Plan B it was.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Harry had to admit he felt ridiculous as he entered the Little Whinging's town library. To look up locks and how to pick them just because one in a frequently recurring dream was bugging him... It really was quite silly. But then again, dreams aside, who knew when it might be useful? It wasn't as if he had anything better to look up while he was hiding from Dudley and his gang.

When he finally found the right book he discovered that lock picking wasn't as easy as Dudley's abandoned storybooks made it sound. Just finding a lock that looked similar to the one in his dream turned out to be a chore and a half, not to mention finding a way to open it without modern tools.

Grumbling but no less determined, Harry set to his task.

He swore that if the room behind the locked door turned out to be just another empty space he would find a way to burn the bloody thing with extreme prejudice.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Weeks passed by of checking and double-checking, of experimenting with the different materials that could be found in the Garden, before, finally, something went  _click._

Harry stared at the lock in his hands, the thick wooden splinter that was his latest tool still buried deep within the lock's inner mechanism. There was just one small but very important difference to the frustrating piece of metal he'd been slaving over for so long.

It was open.

For a moment Harry could only gape, almost unable to believe he finally got it after so much time.

Then he whooped, his cheers bouncing from the walls and ringing through the empty corridors. "I did it! I did it!"

Giddy and proud, Harry needed a few tries before he succeeded in removing the lock from the door. But then, at long last, he was rewarded with the rickety  _swish_ of the door sliding aside when he pulled.

Behind it was a small room, maybe two or three times bigger than his cupboard. There were no windows, nor any mats on the floor. It was completely barren and shrouded in deep shadows.

For a moment, disappointment rose like acid in his throat. Almost,  _almost,_ he slammed the door closed, screaming with rage over so much time wasted on  _nothing._ Almost.

Just before he actually acted on his anger, his eye caught an odd shadow in one of the corners of the room, just a bit darker than the rest. Hoping it was  _something_ worthwhile, Harry approached it quickly, but cautiously. He didn't want to accidentally make his little haven a nightmare after all.

It was a trapdoor. A plain, wooden trapdoor with a big rusty ring at one side.

For a moment, Harry hesitated. Somehow, he had the feeling that if he opened that one he might find something he could not lock away again. He shrugged it off, curiosity and impatience winning from guardedness. It wasn't as if the trapdoor was really giving off a danger vibe. It was more as if opening it was a decision he wouldn't be able to take back once made. Granted, that was a bit creepy too, but at least it didn't feel as if a monster was going to pop out to maul him.

A phrase drifted unbidden through his mind.  _To open or not to open, that is the question._ Harry giggled to himself. One of his teachers had been ambitious and had tried to interest them for Shakespeare just the day before. She had done a pretty good job of making them enjoy it by making them think up variations of some of the most famous phrases, and then letting them read their best results out loud. Despite Dudley's efforts, even Harry had had fun listening to what everyone had come up with.

Serious mood broken, curiosity pulled an easy win on over caution. Harry grabbed the ring and pulled.

The door didn't budge.

Huffing, Harry checked whether there was a lock on it, but he couldn't find anything. He scowled. Maybe it was just stuck?

He tried again, pulling and yanking till he was ready to scream with frustration. Finally, Harry was so fed up with things that refused to open, he put all his anger into one last attempt and yanked as hard as he could, making his shoulders scream in protest from the force he put behind it.

Wood screeched over stone, and the door grudgingly rose an inch. Harry blinked in surprise and grinned. He pulled again, ignoring the pain in his arms. A few good yanks later the door finally shot loose, startling Harry and forcing him to take a stumbling step back from the sudden lack of resistance, the ring almost slipping out of his hands as he fumbled to keep a hold on it. To his relief he managed to steady his grip just before it could slam into place again. Harry smiled, his breath ragged, his chest warm with accomplishment.

Small as he was, it wasn't easy to lift the door away from the opening, but in the end he managed.

And then Harry was looking into a gaping hole of darkness, only the first two steps of a relatively narrow staircase discernible from the surrounding shadows. He bit his lip. He would need a light for this...

He brightened when he remembered the two small lanterns at what he assumed to be the front door of the House. They hung from hooks on both sides of the impressive doors and had been lit every time he saw them. He'd used them before, whenever a storm had made the House so dark that Harry almost tripped over the grooves the sliding doors ran in whenever he entered or left a room. One of those would be perfect for this.

In no time, Harry had retrieved one of the burning lanterns. It was a simple round thing made of wood and white paper with a drawing of a single barren branch on it. It was easy to carry and gave a soft, even light when the wind wasn't disturbing the tiny flame inside.

Harry took a deep breath and slowly, almost hesitantly, descended the stairs.

It ended in a narrow stone corridor with several doors on both sides. He couldn't see whether it ended after about a hundred feet or just turned a corner. What he could see was that the entire corridor was flooded.

For a moment Harry contemplated the wisdom of touching the water. It looked dark but he thought he could see the floor through it. Tentatively, he poked a toe in the water and was, to his mild embarrassment, relieved when nothing happened.

Gathering his courage, Harry stepped into the corridor and found that the water was a more than a foot deep, rising just past his knees and making it difficult to walk. It was cold, but by now his curiosity was burning hot enough to keep him warm.

To Harry's relief, the doors opened relatively easy. Most of them only needed a good yank and the others required his entire weight, but each one popped open with a satisfying  _creak_ when he put enough effort in it, the water sloshing as he pulled on them. At the same time he had to be careful he wouldn't accidentally drop his lantern. He knew which way the stairs were, but he preferred to avoid stumbling around in the dark. He'd probably end up swimming.

The rooms were very interesting. He now knew why the House was empty and why this one door had been locked. Everything had been stored here. It was a pity about the flooding, as a lot of stuff had been damaged by their prolonged stay in the water. Quite a few items seemed to have been already broken when put in here, but he could see that some of the wooden stuff had started to rot from the moisture. There was furniture, clothes, pillows, painted screens, vases, tableware, china- every single piece beautiful and foreign despite the damage. Some things were obviously part of a set – like the china – and other things were odd individual pieces that Harry couldn't imagine buying himself.

Harry laughed. Boy, did he have some exploring to do!

Room after room he opened, each one stuffed to the ceiling with all kinds of interesting objects.

And then he opened a door that let him shed light on some shapes he recognized.

Harry screamed, tripping backwards and landing in the water with a  _splash,_ barely able remain upright enough to keep the lantern safe and dry. He backpedaled till he hit the wall.

… Silence, only broken by his own harsh breathing.

Huh?

Warily, he squinted into the darkness. No, he hadn't imagined it. Those were really human forms.

Dolls?

Harry laughed with relief. Stupid, to get worked up over just a pair of dolls! The shadows had been playing tricks on him. Silly, really. He had thought that after the darkness of the cupboard shadows wouldn't be able to scare him anymore, but in the flickering light of his lantern they had seemed to move.

Confidence restored, he wrung out his soaked clothes as well as he could with one hand before he entered the new room. There, right in the middle of the cluttered room sat two life-sized dolls on a couch, Their appearances startlingly similar and their legs dangling into the water. They looked like children, maybe a few years younger than Harry himself, and were dressed in wide, loose clothes, with baggy yellow pants and blue, wide-sleeved... shirts? Jackets? -on top, the sleeves and the long strips of cloth at the back trailing over the edge of their seats and into the water. They had some weird blue hats on, high and without a brim, from under which very pale hair peeked out in messy, playful locks, most of which were tied back in short ponytails. They appeared to be sleeping.

They looked almost alive, so well were they made. Curious, Harry poked one softly in the cheek, wanting to know what it felt like.

And froze.

What?  _What?_

The material beneath his finger was cool to the touch, but way warmer than any of the other items down there. It was also soft and squishy. Like... a  _real_ cheek.

And then he noticed the barely-there rise and fall of the chests beneath the loose fabric of the clothes.

Harry almost screamed again. The dolls were alive!

They weren't dolls!

At that point he panicked completely, running back and forth in distress while he tried to come up with a way to wake them. He poked them, prodded them, pinched them, threw water in their faces- but nothing worked.

In the end, after he had tried everything he could think of, Harry finally settled on simply moving them to the ground floor. If he couldn't wake them then at least he wouldn't leave them in the dark, wet room.

Only, as it turned out, moving them wasn't simple at all. The boys were both about Harry's size – hats not included – and each probably weighted just as much, if not more, than him. Harry had to drag them through the water and up the stairs with the handle of his lantern clamped between his teeth, and by the end of it he was more than exhausted enough to join them in their sleep.

And he hadn't even gotten them out of the trapdoor room yet,  _or_ gotten them something to sleep on.

Harry groaned miserably, and let his head  _thunk_ against the floor.

The only (tiny) silver lining was that pillows and blankets were a lot easier to carry than people.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

That morning, Harry had so much trouble waking up that his Aunt screeched and yelled at him, and when he didn't even get up from her pulling and twisting his ear, she finally locked him up to keep him from infecting 'her darling baby angel', as he was obviously sick. Harry didn't bother to correct her and was instead grateful he would be allowed to sleep in. Dragging two kids around was exhausting, and getting enough stuff for a bed together without dropping his lantern wasn't much easier.

At least the weather in his dream had been nice enough to allow their clothes to dry quickly. He really hadn't wanted to dig up a pair of outfits for the boys as well.

Nuzzling his thin pillow, Harry returned to sleep, not even caring that his ear hurt and his Aunt hadn't left any breakfast for him. It was far easier to just let himself slide right back into unconsciousness.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Harry woke up when something hard bounced off his skull. The door of his cupboard slammed shut before he could check what it was.

Grumbling, he worked himself up on one elbow, rubbing the sore spot on his head while aiming a bleary glare in the direction of the door. That slam had hurt his ears. Clearly his family wasn't happy with him again.

After fumbling around for his glasses, it took him a few minutes to locate the thing that had hit him. It had almost slipped through the narrow gap between his bed and the back of the cupboard, and had been covered by his blanket when he had pushed it aside to sit up. Harry brightened a little when he saw what it was.

A lunch box. Well, at least they weren't going to let him starve when they thought he was sick.

Inside he found four slices of bread and a piece of cheese. He ate his meal by alternating bites of bread with bites of cheese, letting the flavors mix in his mouth. He had long ago accepted that his bread would always be dry, but the cheese made up for that a little. It wasn't worse than the kind of breakfast he usually got, and he even got to eat it in peace.

Absently Harry checked the location and brightness of the spots of light caused by the sunlight that fell through the small grate in his door. He paused. Huh. Midday already. He couldn't remember if he'd ever been allowed to sleep that long before.

After finishing his food he put the lunch box away and lay down again. It would be better if his Aunt and Uncle thought he had fallen asleep once more.

Harry closed his eyes. By now he was so used to seeking out that dream it took less than a minute for him to find himself back where he'd left the last time, half on and half off the thin mattress he'd dug up for the two boys. Getting up from his sprawled position he crawled over to were the duo lay beneath the blankets. Unlike the last time, Harry wasn't tired anymore and could actually take a good look at them.

He blinked, eyebrows shooting up to disappear beneath his messy hair. He had thought the two boys had pale blond hair, but in the clear light spilling through one of the open sliding doors Harry could see he'd been wrong. Instead, their hair was  _white._

He huffed a laugh. "Aunt Petunia would freak if she saw you," he told them. He was a little disappointed when he got no reaction, but it wasn't really a surprise. The two boys looked very much asleep, the only difference from yesterday was that they seemed to breathe a little more obviously.

Harry watched them a little longer, noticing that they were flawlessly identical down to their very clothes. Twins? Yes, that seemed likely. He wondered what their names were. Though given how alike they looked it probably would be easier to call them both the same, because he  _really_ couldn't tell them apart. That would probably become a bit troublesome once they woke up. Maybe differently colored clothes would help?

After a while he found himself talking to them. "You know, I always thought I was alone here," he told them, hoping that the sound of his voice would draw a response. The twins were so still and silent it was unnerving. "I mean, in this whole place I didn't see anyone. Or anything really. Not even insects, or  _birds,_ and I don't know if you've seen outside, but I think there really should have been some. Would have been nice, you know?"

He shook his head, laughing bemused. "And suddenly I find you guys. Almost startled me to death too. Where you two there the whole time?"

He paused, giving them an expectant look. After a few seconds of no reaction he continued. "Because I was thinking, it must've sucked if you were. Everything was so dark, I bet you couldn't see a thing down there. Was it scary?" This time he didn't wait for a reply. "No wonder you just went to sleep. If it's so dark you can't really do anything. And the door was locked so you couldn't go upstairs either. Though you really should have found a better place to fall asleep," he told them, a bit cross. "All that water; weren't you cold? If you'd gone to sleep in the little room upstairs then at least you wouldn't have been all wet. And I wouldn't have had to carry you so far."

Harry gave them a contemplative look. "Unless... did the water come after you went to sleep? It  _has_ rained a lot here. Uncle Vernon once said that that could flood cellars and such. He wanted one for wine, you see? But then he changed his mind. Said an extra fridge would be just as good. Better even, 'cause you could put meat and such in it as well."

He was silent for a long time. "How can you guys still be asleep?" Harry asked them, seriously confused and quite a bit miffed. "I dragged you through the water, which was really cold.  _And_ up the stairs, and I know I bumped you guys against the wall a couple of times. Not on purpose, but I'm sure it hurt a bit. How can you sleep through that?"

The twins didn't even twitch.

Harry scowled. "Fine," he muttered. "Be that way." He got up, thoughts turning to the intriguing collection of stuff downstairs. He was sure there would be somethinghe could play with among that mess. And if he gathered all pillows and let them dry a bit, he was sure he could make the House more comfortable with them.

At the door he paused for a moment, looking back where the twins were lying in their mess of blankets, duvets, and pillows. He couldn't help but hope they would wake up soon. Dudley had always made sure no one would want to be his friend, but without him here Harry might just have a chance.

When he descended the dark stairs he did so with a smile.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

It was a week later, on another day that Harry was mindlessly rambling to them, that Harry got his very first response from the twins. It was nothing spectacular, but it gave Harry hope that they would wake someday soon. Somewhere during his endless chatter, the twins had opened their eyes a little, a slit of color peeking from behind their lashes. When he noticed, Harry's mouth dropped.

Their eyes were as green as his.

They were also completely unfocused. Harry was pretty sure they didn't see a thing except maybe some vague light spots, even if they had been awake enough to see in the first place.

Still, it was progress!

Which meant it was time to get more stuff upstairs so at least the House wouldn't look like a squatter had taken up residence in it. Uncle Vernon had very strong opinions about squatters, and while Harry didn't always – almost never, really – agree with his Uncle's opinions, he had to admit that breaking into someone else's house was not right. He didn't want to be associated with such people.

He would start with the small stuff and pick out what was and wasn't too damaged for use. He'd already gotten pillows and a few interesting things to play with, but he would need to get a lot more if he wanted the place to feel a bit homey. Though he couldn't bring up any real furniture yet, since those were too big for him to carry alone.

Ah, well. When they finally woke up the twins would just have to help with that. Harry really wasn't big or strong enough to carry cabinets and tables and other stuff all by himself.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

For once, Harry hadn't entered the dream about the Garden and the House, choosing to fall asleep normally instead. As a consequence, he dreamed about something else; about a great white city with high walls and gold-colored roofs, and buildings big enough to be palaces. A city that felt like he belonged there.

_Where am I?_

A group of black-clad strangers passed him. They were talking, but he couldn't hear a word they said.

_Who are they?_

From the corner of his eye he spied something pink, and as far as he could see, the walls were supposed to be white. Did that mean there was someone next to him? Somehow it felt like that.

…  _What is this place?_

It was like watching series of pictures, all sharing the same theme yet at the same time not telling him anything. Loose fragments of the same story. Screen shots of the same movie. All vague and jumbled and somehow  _important._

Loud banging distorted the visions, and suddenly Harry was blinking up at hazy shapes that he knew were the underside of the stairs.

…  _A dream?_

Weird. Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and decided not to worry about it. After all, dreams were always forgotten within hours. The dream about the Garden and the House was the only exception.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Two days later, during another mindless talk to the twins while putting flowers from the Garden into one of the many vases from downstairs, Harry realized he could still remember the confusing images. He didn't know whether to be happy or not that he had found another exception.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

There were huge piles of books downstairs, but most of them were utterly ruined by the water, pages having fallen apart and ink reduced to ugly, unreadable stains. He was trying to save some of the ones that seemed the least damage when there was another bit of progress from the twins.

They were moving.

It was only a little bit, pretty much just them moving in their sleep, but Harry was happy they were showing a bit of activity once he had recovered from getting nearly startled out of his skin. Their doll-like stillness had become quite creepy, especially after they had started opening their eyes a bit from time to time, giving the impression that they were staring at nothing. Bit like one of Dudley's horror movies, the one where one guy played catatonic just so he could catch the lead actors off guard and murder them. Boy, had been Aunt Petunia upset that her 'darling Duddykins' had watched such a scary movie.

And oh, that was a bad,  _bad_ comparison. Harry really hoped it wasn't like that. He didn't want the Garden and the House to be turned into a nightmare.

He glanced at the two from where he was sitting on the porch, just outside the sliding doors that allowed the room direct access to the Garden. The twins were curled around each other, snuggled into the blankets, looking as harmless as the two baby rabbits one of Harry's classmates had brought along that one time their teacher had made the mistake to have a Bring-Your-Pet Day. Dudley had managed to convince Aunt Marge to let him bring Ripper. Let's just say it hadn't been a good day for anyone.

But that aside, the two really didn't look dangerous. With their eyes closed like they were now, they weren't even a  _little_ creepy. They looked like normal kids.  _Sleeping_ kids. They weren't scary at all.

Absently, he started turning pages again, one for each book, allowing another part of the books to be dried by the sun.

Harry hoped that appearances weren't deceiving. That would  _suck._

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

It was a nice, bright day when the twins finally woke up.

At first Harry didn't realize anything had changed. He pottered about in the room for a bit, checked the stuff he'd set out to dry during his last visit, and knelt next to the bed to straighten the mess a little, before he finally noticed that the twins' faces were no longer blank.

They were looking at him. Not staring in his direction, but really  _looking._

"Hey," he greeted, excited. "You're awake."

The twins regarded him through half-lidded eyes, looking so sleepy it was obvious they had trouble processing his words. The two shared a droopy-eyed look before offering sloppy nods.

Harry huffed a laugh. "Sort of, at least," he amended.

They smiled and beckoned him closer, eerily synchronous considering that they were barely awake. Their drowsy smiles made them look as harmless as the young kittens of Mrs. Figg's cats.

Harry stared for a moment, but then he shrugged and shuffled closer, until his knees came in contact with their improvised bed.

Their smiled widened a little and they gestured again. Confused, Harry obliged and leaned forward, unwittingly placing himself within grabbing distance.

Immediately their hands latched on to his clothes, insistently tugging and almost dragging him forward. For kids that who looked three seconds away from conking out they were frighteningly strong, and despite his protests he couldn't get them to release him. After several minutes of futile struggling, Harry gave up and allowed himself to be dragged into the pile. In seconds he was sandwiched between them both, the twins clinging to him like a pair of oversized koalas.

Soon, his nervous fear faded in favor of apprehensive exasperation. Harry was quite uncomfortable with his new position, even more so when the twins snuggled closer till their faces were almost pressed against his neck. They were treating him as if he was some sort of living teddy bear, and though there were surely worse ways to be treated, he kinda really wanted to know  _why._ Because, hello, strangers? Who would hug a stranger?  _And_ drag him into bed?

Seeing that the twins had nodded off again, their heads resting on his shoulders, Harry didn't think he was going to get his answers any time soon. And from the grip the twins had on him, he wasn't getting free either. All he could do was either adapt or leave the dream, but he really didn't wish to return to the real world yet. He didn't want to wake up to the hunger and the smells of the Dursleys having a lavish dinner, nor did he want to hear the sounds of his family laughing with their guests, wholly unconcerned with the fact that Harry hadn't had anything but a few slices of bread to eat in almost two days.

Decision made, Harry honestly attempted to release the tension that had taken root through his entire body. After a few minutes he had succeeded a little, despite still feeling utterly confused and quite apprehensive about being this close to people.

Sighing, Harry stared at the ceiling, well and truly trapped – and really, shouldn't he be more upset about that? …Then again, it wasn't as if he had to be anywhere important – but he couldn't stop a bemused smile. Awkwardness aside, he decided that cuddling wasn't really that bad, and a lot better than some of the other options he had envisioned while waiting for the twins to wake. He shifted a little, trying to stop the twins' skulls from digging into his shoulder without waking them. It took some careful wriggling but he managed, despite that the two boys tightened their grip on him every time he moved. And their grip was  _strong._

Somehow, the warmth of the two boys and the sound of their quiet breaths was soothing, once he closed his eyes and just accepted the weird situation.

It took quite a while – but hey, as he said, nothing important to do – but in the end, Harry drifted off with the feeling that he wouldn't mind doing this more often, even if it  _was_ awkward and embarrassing.

In their sleep, the twins smiled and pressed a bit closer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, by now everyone who has read/watched Bleach should have a good idea just whose reincarnation Harry is, so I don't feel too guilty about the very mild spoiler in the next bit.
> 
> As for why Harry is that Ukitake's reincarnation, well, I don't really have a good reason. This story was inspired by the fact that in the manga Ukitake has green eyes, and his hair would have been black had his illness not happened. The bunny ran off from there, and I had to get out of my head before it grew the same size as Ground Fire.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Focused inspiration leads to fast updates. Such a wonderful thing. Pity it never lasts.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

The following visits were an odd mix of awkward moments and honest joy.

It started with waking up to the twins' up-close affection. They had hugged him enthusiastically, but while Harry had appreciated the gesture despite how uncomfortable it had made him feel, he had also been seriously confused.

Because, apparently, he was incapable of hearing a thing they said.

That, or there was something seriously wrong with their vocal cords. Their lips moved, but no matter what, he couldn't hear a single word, only wordless whispers that somehow managed to remind him of distant thunder and breaking waves. Not that Harry had ever been to the ocean, but during one of his biology classes their teacher had shown them a documentary about marine animals. The waves had been a constant through most of the movie and Harry had liked the sound. The thunder he knew from the countless storms that plagued this place.

"Sorry, but I have no idea what you're saying," he had told them, genuinely apologetic and just a bit disappointed.

For a moment Harry's disappointment had been mirrored in the twins' eyes – showing that they could hear and understand what Harry was saying – before their expressions had turned understanding.

Despite the annoyance that the handicap was, it did not keep the boys down for long. The twins' incapability of direct communication lead to some of the weirdest and funniest games of Hint in living history. Now that they were properly awake the twins had gone from sleepy to hyper, often tumbling over one another as they scurried to express themselves, which didn't improve the quality of their attempts. It was really hilarious, and most of the time Harry ended up on the ground, laughing his ass off.

Fortunately, the twins could see the humor in their failed attempts and they often ended up laughing right along with him.

Harry couldn't be happier. Was this what having friends was like?

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

It was a warm day. So warm that Harry had decided to postpone any further raids on the basement, wanting to enjoy the nice weather while it lasted. With the Dursleys he was never allowed to relax outside.

At the moment, Harry was lounging in the sun and the twins were snickering and giggling, as if they had inhaled laughing gas and were now feeling the effects. He assumed it was because of the hat and the sandals. The hat was an old worn thing made of some kind of reed or bamboo, and it was frayed around the edges. The shoes were made out of some kind of straw rope, and pretty worn as well. He had dug them up just yesterday, and since the sun was quite bright today he had put them on, wanting to go outside without getting his feet all dirty again, hat tilted so it shaded most of his face. Both the hat and the sandals were too big for him, more fit for an adult really, and they probably looked pretty silly on him.

Though given the twins' reactions, there was no 'probably' about it. Was it really that funny?

Ah, well. It were handy things. Especially the hat. He kinda wished he had one like it in the real world; gardening during high summer was hell. The twins could laugh all they wanted, at least  _he_ wouldn't be the one getting sunstroke. He'd had that once, he wasn't eager for a repeat performance. Sunstrokes  _sucked._

The sounds of running footsteps disappeared into the House. Huh, seemed they had calmed down a little, if they were running around like that.

A few minutes later, the sound of giggles heralded the twins' return. Harry cracked an eye open, just in time to see something pink fill his vision with startling speed.

It landed with a  _splat._

Flailing, Harry needed a few seconds to unearth himself from beneath the garishly colored pile of fabric, hindered by the new additions to his outfit. The fact that the fabric was sopping wet told him exactly where the duo had found it. He scowled at the twins, who were almost rolling over the ground with laughter, their faces taking a distinctly reddish hue as they gasped for air. Harry rolled his eyes. Honestly, it was not  _that_ funny!

Heaving a put-upon sigh, Harry shook his head at the weirdness that was the twins' sense of humor while he picked up the sodden cloth. A closer inspection told him it was some sort of robe, the outside decorated with a pattern of flowers and leaves. It was large and undeniably meant for a girl. Maybe the previous owner of the House had been a woman?

Guessed he knew what the twins found so funny about dumping it on him. Silly hat, straw sandals, and girly robe, all way too big. Yeah, he could see the joke.

Harry sighed. He'd better hang it somewhere where it could dry. Maybe the basement would have something useful; Harry was pretty sure he had seen some kind of rack down there. Ignoring the twins' continued laughter with as much dignity as he could muster, given he still had his new hat and sandals on and his clothes were damp from the wet robe, Harry stepped inside.

Looked like he was going to have to raid the basement after all.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Of course, Harry hadn't forgotten his plans to decorate the House properly. It took a couple of minutes for the twins to understand that Harry was serious about his intentions, but once they did they were more than eager to help. Even the three of them together couldn't carry the really big furniture, but chairs, tables, and the smaller cabinets were dragged up the stairs and placed in the barren rooms. The twins were quite insistent about the placement of some of the bigger pieces, and since Harry found he liked their choices he didn't protest much, even when they had to drag heavy pieces of furniture to the upper floors.

It took several weeks – man, was there a lot of stuff, good thing the House was big otherwise it would have ended up looking like Dudley's bedrooms – but finally they had brought up everything they needed to make the House look homely. Hands on his hips, Harry looked around, taking in the results of their clumsy decorating. It was a bit messy, but overall Harry was quite satisfied with the results of their efforts. All the items had seen better days, and most of them were damaged or broken in some way. But that was okay in Harry's opinion. The entire place was like that. It fit.

He looked at the twins and gestured at their surroundings. "What do you think?"

They smiled a bit timorously, their whispering voices carrying tones of joy and some sort of wishful sadness. Harry smiled back. He could understand their sadness. It was probably very nostalgic for them to see the previous owner's stuff around again.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

That night, Harry bore witness to a lifetime.

_A man with long, curly hair laughed, two large swords in his hands. Steel flashed, danced, sang against one another, his own blades clashing against those of the brown-haired man as they trained. A name, rising through the fog of oblivion, as old and familiar as the man's face._

…  _Shunsui._

Faces whirled past, like an endless stream of photos carried by a storm wind. Names, places, facts rushing past like water of a raging river; blurring, and wild, and intense like bright sunlight reflecting on roaring waves.

_An old man, face weathered and scarred by the ages, beard a long, dignified waterfall of silver-gray. Narrow, wizened eyes, peering from under the shade of his long eyebrows, as words of unyielding righteousness fell from those ancient lips. Hands clasped around a cane that wasn't a cane at all. Fire crackling from within his elder's grasp, heat filling the air with punishing intensity. Names and titles drifting on the wind, like sparks from a bonfire._

_Yamamoto-Genryuusai-Soutaichou._

_Yamamoto-sensei._

So many people. So much that had happened. His mind was overflowing, and still the rushing stream did not  _stop._

_The House within the landscape of his soul, whole and undamaged, inhabited by the two who had been at his side for centuries, their voices bright and full of joy every time he came to meet them. The two he knew as well as he knew himself, twins like the blades that were their physical forms. He knew them, their name spoken as easy as breathing-_

Slowly, Harry's eyes opened. In the depth of his soul, he felt the twins stir.

The twins he used to know.

"I know who you are," he whispered dreamily to no one, consciousness still floating between dream and wakefulness. Inside him, he felt the twins sit up to attention.

_Sougyo no Kotowari._

Harry slipped back into sleep with the warmth of his Zanpakutou's joy radiating through his soul.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Harry sat at a worn table, a cracked tea set before him. How the twins had managed to get their hands on tea he didn't know, but it wasn't as if he cared about that.

The twins sat on the other side, faces unusually solemn, their eyes filled with a light that could only be happiness.

That morning, Harry had woken up with centuries worth of memories in his head, and none of them were his own. He was drowning in them, and not even the sanctuary of his Inner World brought reprieve. "Who am I, Sougyo no Kotowari?" he whispered brokenly.

The twins smiled at him. "You are our wielder."

Harry flinched. "You mean I  _used_ to be your wielder."

Sougyo no Kotowari shook their heads. "No. You  _are._ "

Harry looked away, eyes dropping to the cooling cup of tea clenched between his fingers.

The twins leaned forward, their hands touching Harry's, their expressions gentle. "We are here, aren't we?"

"I'm not the one you knew," Harry said, throat tight and eyes stinging. He wasn't going to cry. He  _wasn't._

The Zanpakutou spirits nodded in easy agreement. "We know."

"I'm not- I can't- I'm not  _him,_ how could I ever replace him?!" Harry demanded, hands nearly white from how tightly he was clenching them around his cup.

"You are not supposed to replace him," they answered with maddening calm.

"Juushirou was old and his time had come. We knew that would happen for centuries. No one lives forever," the twin on the left said.

"You are you," the other twin continued. "A new start. You weren't supposed to find us;  _none_ of us was supposed to remember our soul's past. That is what reincarnation is supposed to accomplish."

Two identical smiles, warm and gentle as sunlight. "But that you found us, and some of Juushirou's memories, changes little. Juushirou is still dead. Too little of him remains for you to ever be him, and we would not want you to be," the left twin explained.

Harry looked up, surprised. Involuntarily, his death grip on his cup eased a little. "Why not? He- Juushirou was-" He freed on hand and gestured at himself, expression pained. "-he was so much better than me." Old, and wise, and god,  _so_   _strong_. Even now he remembered Juushirou's unshakable resolve as he faced off against a man he respected more than anyone else for the sake of the justice he had sworn uphold, even if it meant shattering the very system Seireitei had been built on. His and Shunsui's calm, graceful acceptance of what they had to do as they faced their mentor's blistering fury. How could Sougyo no Kotowari ever prefer a weak little kid over  _that?_

Sougyo no Kotowari growled, eyes glowing and a hint of their true selves shining through. Their hands tightened around Harry's. "You are  _ours._  Juushirou may have been more experienced, but you. Are.  _Ours_. And that is all you ever have to be." Their expressions smoothened, their more childish demeanor returning as their lips curved back into cheerful smiles. "Besides, it wouldn't be fair to compare you two. To neither of you. You deserve better than that, especially from us."

Harry wiped his eyes. And if his hand came back wet, well, no one needed to know. Sougyo no Kotowari kindly pretended they hadn't seen his move. He snuffled. "How come I remember so much anyway?"

"Juushirou was very old," Sougyo no Kotowari told him. "He didn't want to forget anything important, so for each memory he wanted to keep he created an item. By bringing the items here you absorbed the memories they represented into yourself."

Harry furrowed his brows. "You mean, the lock on the basement..."

The twins nodded. "The basement was were that what remained of Juushirou ended up after reincarnation. The water has been rising your entire life. If you hadn't found the door it would have done what the process of reincarnation hadn't managed, and erased everything inside forever. But when you opened the door, the basement became connected to your Inner World. The water will still rise and erase what is inside, but in the meantime you have the chance to recover what is left."

Harry paled. "The water erases memories?"

Sougyo no Kotowari smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. It will stay within the basement. Sooner or later the basement will disappear with everything that is left inside it, since it is the only thing that is still truly Juushirou's. It doesn't affect what is yours. And though this house and the garden used to be part of Juushirou's mindscape, they are now part of yours, and the memories you've recovered are now yours as well." Their smiles turned mischievous. "Think of it as Juushirou's legacy. By your own actions, you are now his heir."

Harry was silent for a while. "What would have happened if I hadn't found this place?" he asked quietly.

The twins looked thoughtful. "We don't know. Your Inner World might have become something different, but no one really knows how much truly remains of it after rebirth. There have been theories that a soul has the same Inner World no matter how many times it is reborn, but other theories say that each Inner World is unique for every individual life because it is shaped during that life. No one can tell which theories are right because it is impossible to track a soul through reincarnation, or know what their Inner World looks like upon birth. If Juushirou hadn't been so old and powerful this place might not have retained its shape like it did."

Their expressions turned sad. "And for us... we would have forgotten Juushirou for sure. If you would have ever found us later on we probably would have looked very different as well. No Zanpakutou is the same."

Harry stared at them. "But... you are the same as in my- I mean, Juushirou's memories. You don't look different at all."

The twins nodded. "Yes. We think that is because you took us out of the basement before the water could finish. There are some gaps in our memories as well, but not nearly enough for us to lose our old shape."They smiled. "We'll probably change a little while you get older, but not nearly as much as we would have if you hadn't gotten us out."

Harry contemplated that. "Is that bad?" he wondered apprehensively.

They shook their heads. "No. It just is."

The right twin tilted his head. "As a matter of fact," he started, "It would be weird if it was bad for you. You  _did_  receive a lot from Juushirou, and your souls are, in essence, the same soul, so similarities in Zanpakutou should be expected."

"Of course," the other twin continued, "no matter the similarities, you are not the same person. But you are really, really young, and Juushirou's legacy is very big, not to mention you only just got us out. So right now, Juushirou's influence is... stronger? Hasn't run out yet?" The twins shared a look, before shrugging.

"We'll change. We  _know_  we will," they said, and the conviction in their voices relaxed something within Harry's chest that had tightly coiled in on itself the moment he'd realized that his own spirits still belonged to the person he once used to be. He fought against the involuntary brimming of his eyes. He didn't want to cry, really, but to know beings as powerful as Sougyo no Kotowari wanted  _him,_ even though they were used to so much better _..._  something burned in his throat, and he swallowed heavily.

Sougyo no Kotowari just continued talking, as if they hadn't noticed Harry's struggle. Harry felt unexpectedly grateful about that. "Your soul is still reshaping itself, and your power hasn't even awakened yet. Believe us, even now, we and this world reflect  _you. Not_  Juushirou. But it will take time, and growth, and learning about yourself and the world around you, before the differences will become clearer."

Harry bit his lip, taking deep, steadying breaths as he considered everything he had been told. Then, after several long minutes in which Sougyo no Kotowari waited with seemingly infinite patience, he nodded. "Okay."

The twins blinked. "Okay?"

Harry nodded, confidence slowly returning now he had made his decision. "Yeah. I guess I once was Juushirou, and I guess I've got to live with the memories I've... inherited from him. Though you could have stopped me from taking so many," he muttered, a bit cross.

Sougyo no Kotowari had the decency to look guilty about that. "You already had quite a few lying around, so we thought you already knew. It was not as if anyone was gonna miss them if you took them for yourself."

Harry  _humph_ ed, but his heart wasn't really in it. It was not as if his connection to Sougyo no Kotowari had been good enough for proper communication anyway. A few days ago he hadn't even been able to hear their voices, so it was not as if they could have explained why he should reconsider decorating the House with the items from the basement.

Plus, from what he had seen in the memories, Ukitake Juushirou had been a great man, who didn't deserve to be forgotten.

Harry swallowed, and nodded once more. "I'm going to keep his memories," he told them, sounding more certain than he really felt. He was still afraid of losing himself in the memories, but at the same time he didn't want to forget what he had seen, or lose the things he'd gained from them. "I'm not him, but I hope he wouldn't have minded. And maybe-" he bit his lip, nervous, "-maybe one day I can be as good as him."

Sougyo no Kotowari smiled, approval and joy shining in their eyes as they rushed around the table to hug him. Embarrassed, Harry refused to meet their eyes.

None of them mentioned how desperately he returned their hug. For the first time in his life, he had friends. Partners, who once belonged to someone else, but who wanted him –  _him! –_  as their new companion. Who would remain with him until the day he died, so he'd never, ever have to be alone again.

Gaining them might have come with consequences he didn't foresee, but he could cope with centuries of memories if it meant he'd be allowed to keep the spirits. If it meant he could keep his friends, and his sanctuary.

Harry closed his eyes and buried his face in their warm shoulders. His resolve hardened. Yes. For them, he would cope.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

The next day Harry found himself back in the same position, though this time they were all a lot more at ease. For now, he had decided to ignore the issue of how many memories there were, and how it felt like his head was going to burst at the mere thought of having to remember them all. Even now they were a blurring, headache-inducing ocean of images and knowledge.

Instead, he focused on something that had been nagging at him. "You know, I was wondering about something. About what you said yesterday."

Sougyo no Kotowari nodded for him to continue, clearly curious about what it could be.

Harry bit his lip, trying to think of a good way to phrase his question. Absently he traced the grain of the wood of the table. "You said all items represent memories. But how does that work?"

The twins smiled, eyes lighting up with eager enthusiasm. "It is fairly simple. By creating items you create an anchor for your memories. By sorting the items it is easy to put a proper order to the memories. And if you don't know anymore what item represents which memory, all you have to do is press your skin against it – hand or forehead work best – and concentrate on wanting to see what they represent. That way you can directly watch the memory they are connected to."

"Really?" Harry looked down at the table they were sitting at and promptly pressed his hands against it, concentrating hard on the feel of old, polished wood against his skin.

_Work. Boredom. Endless hours and mountains of paper, a river of ink to finish them all-_

Harry yanked his hands back, giving the polished top an affronted look. "What did he _do_ here?" he asked, distaste coloring his voice. Thought for a moment, about what on earth would require that much paper. Maybe that thing one of the older kids picking up their younger siblings from school had been complaining about... "High school homework?"

The twins blinked at him once, and then toppled over, laughing. Despite his confused prodding the remark had them in stitches for far longer than Harry thought could ever be warranted. Only afterwards, red in the face and gasping for air, did they manage to explain his mistake. They burst out in laughter again when he flushed red in embarrassment.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Harry was systematically emptying the basement. Now that he knew what the items represented he couldn't, in good consciousness, leave them to be destroyed by the water. Even if the mere thought of gaining any more memories terrified him down to his bones. Juushirou had been a good man. He deserved better than have his legacy destroyed just because Harry wasn't comfortable with inheriting it.

And so he worked, grim and scared, but nonetheless determined to see things through. Sougyo no Kotowari dutifully followed him on his self-imposed quest, helping him search below the water's surface for items they had missed when they were decorating. Harry had the feeling they approved of his determination. Their warm support gave him the strength to open door after door, and walk the stairs countless times to deposit their findings in the ground floor rooms.

They couldn't take everything. Some of the items were simply impossible for Harry to move even with Sougyo no Kotowari's help, because they were either too big, too heavy, or simply had a shape that would not fit through the trapdoor. But every item they  _could_  bring upstairs, they would, even if it was damaged to the point it was hard to tell what it used to be.

It was going quite well, until on the the fifth day, they reached a door that was quite different from the rest. It was an old thing, worryingly thick and heavy compared to the other doors, with several bolts and some suspicious, rusty-brown stains on it, as if someone had splashed it with bad paint.

The sight of it sent a shiver of unease down Harry's spine. "What do you gthhink is behind this one?" Harry asked, biting his lip in indecision. He had wanted to save every memory he could, but this door made him reconsider that resolve.

The twins cast a look at the door, their expressions serious and cold in a way that increased Harry's unease tenfold.

"Bad memories," they replied, voices echoing with icy certainty.

Harry frowned. "What kind?"

The twins turned to him, their grim expressions ominous in the dim light of the lantern. "The kind he wished hadn't been real. Of pain, and grief, and losing people. Of his illness, and how much it hurt him and the people he cared about. Of fear and despair, and nightmares turned reality. Juushirou was old and has witnessed many bad things during his life."

Harry contemplated the door and Sougyo no Kotowari's faces, and decided not to open this one. He didn't want to know what someone as old and strong as  _Juushirou_ would consider so bad he wanted to keep the memories locked away.

Sougyo no Kotowari offered him grateful smiles, as if they had guessed his decision. "Shall we go clear out the next one?" one of them suggested.

Harry nodded, tearing his eyes away from the menacing door. He swore he would keep his curiosity in check when it came to that one. It was one thing to open doors when you didn't know what was behind them; it was downright  _stupid_  when you knew whatever it was would be  _bad._ He was perfectly content without memory-induced nightmares, thanks. He already had enough on his plate with the normal ones.

"Yeah," he said. "Lets."

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

"What is  _that?"_  Harry asked, pointing. They were in one of the last rooms. This one contained a  _lot_ of big stuff. Massive cabinets made of solid wood, beautifully carved sculptures almost two times as tall as Harry himself, and heavy bureaus that each probably weighted as much as Uncle Vernon.

But he wasn't pointing at those. In the middle of the room was a small dais. On it rested a massive stone wrapped in heavy chains, and that was what Harry was pointing at. A massive, polished stone, chipped and scratched like everything down here. It reminded Harry a little of the standing stones of Stonehenge, but shaped like a... well, oddly like a very elongated egg, with the narrow end pointing towards the ceiling. Briolette, one of Juushirou's memories told him the shape was called. It was also a lot smaller than the standing stones. As in, it was only a little taller than Harry, and narrow enough that even at its broadest point it would easily fit within the circle of Sougyo no Kotowari's arms. In the shadows it glittered like a piece of midnight.

Sougyo no Kotowari's eyes lit up upon seeing it. "Ooh, this one! We've  _got_ to bring this one up!"

Harry gave them a flat stare that somehow managed to convey the sheer depth of his incredulity. It was quite a feat. Just to make sure they got the message, he vocalized it as well. "You've  _got_ to be kidding me."

The twins shook their heads, their smiles blinding. "This one," they explained, "is not a memory. This one is what remains of Juushirou's power. As long as it is chained you won't be able to access it, but we  _have_ to bring it up! It will be very useful!"

Harry gave them a dubious look. "Just power? Like... a manifestation of his reiryoku?"

The twins nodded excitedly, their eyes sparkling with what were no doubt all kinds of ideas about what they could do with a potential power source at their disposal.

Harry frowned, and reluctantly cast a considering look at the massive, no-doubt heavy-as-hell piece of rock. "Do we _have_  to?"

Sougyo no Kotowari's expressions softened. "Yours is a powerful soul," they replied. "Would be, even without Juushirou being your previous identity. But your power is very young while his is steadily fading. With this, even if your own power has barely formed yet, you will at least have the option to learn the Spirit Arts, if you ever need them. We know how to connect it to your own reserves. It would give you enough of a boost that with practice, you would be able to use the Spirit Arts even when you're still alive. If Hollows ever start to come after you, you might need it."

Harry picked at the frayed edge of his shirt, hesitant to accept any more of Juushirou's legacy. The memories were giving him more than enough of a headache already.

Sougyo no Kotowari gently pulled the fabric from between his fingers. Sincerity rang in their voices. "We swear to you that it will not have any adverse effects. It is..." They paused, searching for a proper comparison. "It is like an empty battery. It allows you to store energy. The more energy you can store, the more energy you can expend when you need it."

Harry bit his lip. " _Only_ energy storage?"

the twins nodded.

Harry took a deep breath. "Okay," he said. And then, with a bit more conviction, "Okay. If you want to, we can try."

Sougyo no Kotowari hugged him. "Thank you."

Harry gave them a quizzical look. Why were they grateful?

With a smile, they explained. "You will be safer this way." They giggled at the flat look they got for that. Harry thought he could take care of himself quite well. They grinned. "We can't help worrying, sometimes," they added.

Harry felt heat creep up his face. Well... that was a first. His family  _never_ worried about him. What was he supposed to say to that?

"L-let's get started already," he replied instead. "This thing is probably going to take the rest of the day. This will be such a pain."

The twins laughed and followed eagerly. Harry's face still felt too warm to look them in the eye. Instead he focused on the stone.

His prediction was spot-on. Dragging the thing upstairs and outside took many, many hours, the majority of them filled with curses about bloody rocks being heavy. But in the end, Harry had to admit it was satisfying to see the thing standing outside, proudly in the middle of a sickle-shaped bed of small white stones. What had seemed simple, somewhat-translucent black rock had turned into dark smoky gray in the sunlight, spots of starlight blue-and-green glowing within its depths like distant lightning.

Despite the sweat and pain it had cost them to get it there, it was absolutely beautiful.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Of course, the satisfaction didn't last.

"Why do I remember so clearly?" Harry gasped after a particularly vivid dream. _Screams and monsters, and the fear that there were more of those masked creatures than he and his team could slay._  Harry had thought he could handle the memories, he _wanted to_ , but every time they rose to the forefront of his mind it made him feel as if he was losing himself, little by little.

Sougyo no Kotowari tilted their heads. "You may not have made these memories yourself. But they are your heritage, paid for with misery and effort, and everything else that lead you to find them. You may not have made them, but they are  _yours._ "

"I feel like I'm drowning,"Harry whispered, hating the fear in his own voice.

Hands touched his shoulders, offering comfort without words. "It must be scary," they agreed, understanding shining in their eyes. "Don't be scared. They are memories. Watch them, learn from them. But they can't drown you as long as you hold on to who you are."

"But... they shape so much of what I am..." And those words themselves felt like betrayal. Harry knew he didn't speak like this. That was Juushirou.

Sougyo no Kotowari shrugged. "As do parents. As do family. As does everything we see and experience in this world. Does that mean we are our parents? Our family? The world itself, and all it contains?"

Harry huffed a dry laugh at that last one. "I'm not the Soul King."

Sougyo no Kotowari flashed him a pair of quicksilver grins. "Neither are we. And neither are you Juushirou. Every single moment in our life we are influenced. What we  _do_ with that influence, and how we allow it to change us,  _that_  is what defines who we are."

Harry bit his lip. "But it isn't normally like  _this._ Juushirou... sometimes it feels like I'm drowning in his influence, in his  _memories_ , and- What if I forget  _myself?"_

Sougyo no Kotowari cupped his face with their hands. "Then we will remind you. As often as it takes to bring you back." They smiled, wry and a little sad. "We'll admit that other influences are less direct than Juushirou's, but that doesn't make them any less real. You can  _choose_ who you want to be. If nothing else, then at least be assured of that."

Harry felt tears threaten to fall. "But how do you know what's real? How would you know what is  _myself_? Half of the time I can't even tell the differences between him and me, and- What if I get influenced so much I become like him?"

Sougyo no Kotowari blinked surprised green at him. "You think it's bad to be like Juushirou?" one of them asked.

 _Of course not!_ Harry wanted to shout, but the words died in his throat, because- Because he was scared of losing himself, of becoming different from himself because of the memories. But... he  _had_ already changed, and Juushirou had been so brave, and clever, and strong. Respected and loved. He had been everything Harry wanted to be himself.

_What is it, that I am so afraid of?_

"Why are you scared, Harry?" Sougyo no Kotowari murmured, echoing his internal conflict. Their weight was warm pressures against his sides, their arms holding him as he shivered between them. But their eyes held a challenge.

_Do you dare find out what frightens you? Do you dare face your fear?_

"Are you scared of becoming something that isn't you? Or are you scared of becoming something you know you aren't right now? Are you scared of living up to expectations you cannot meet, or are you terrified of knowing someone so well that you might become a lot like him?"

Realization dawned like the rising tide, cold and inexorable. Harry forced out the words. "I am... scared that when I make a choice, it will not be  _me_  choosing, but the memories. That one day I'll wake up as Ukitake Juushirou, and not as Harry Potter."

"And do you  _believe_  that will happen? That you will become a puppet of the past?" Green eyes burned like copper flames, daring him to find the answer. "Do the memories truly hold that much power?"

Harry's head hurt. He didn't know.

_Do they?_

"...No." It was but a whisper, but somehow Harry managed to force it out. Speaking it out loud allowed some measure of strength to return to his body. "No... movies and stories, I  _know_ them-" like he knew the storybooks Dudley had discarded; read so often he knew every word and image by heart, almost as if he himself had been the one to write them, "-but they are... they are not  _me._ "

He looked at Sougyo no Kotowari. The twins looked back, steady as the endless breaking of waves on the shore. They smiled. "Then all the choice that remains," they murmured, "is whether you want them to be, one day."

Harry stared at them, and to his eternal embarrassment, felt his eyes brim with tears. "Do you think I will be able to?"

The twins smiled, radiant as the first sunlight spilling over the horizon at daybreak. "Why on earth would you think you wouldn't?"

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Of course, merely  _knowing_  your fear didn't solve anything. Getting over it required much more than that. But knowing what it was made it easier to handle.  _Of all the fears people face, the unknown is the worst. Only once the source of the fear is known, you might be able to do something about it._

Which was another Juushirou-thought. Harry tried to ignore them whenever they popped up.

_But that doesn't change that it's true._

Well, true or not, fears should be confronted when you were  _ready._ And Harry couldn't feel further from ready if he tried.

Knowing his fears were not really rational didn't abate the fact that he felt like he was drowning every time he tried to confront them. So he tried not to confront them. He  _couldn't._  He- He  _wasn't strong enough_ -

Arms wrapped around him. True to their word, Sougyo no Kotowari pulled him back every time he threatened to get lost in his own head. "It's okay Harry,"They assured him. "Juushirou didn't gain his captaincy within a year of entering the Academy. Strength is built slowly, to make sure it won't be lost in the fire of battle. Take your time."

Dragging his mind out of memories of masked monsters and flashing steel, Harry closed his eyes and breathed the comfort in his Zanpakutou offered.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

To distance himself from Juushirou's memories, Harry did what Juushirou had rarely ever had the time for.

He played. Forgetting his burdens as he reveled in the simplicity of games.

Sougyo no Kotowari eagerly accommodated him, proving that their childish forms weren't without cause. Many, many days were spent rushing through the House and Garden, screaming and laughing as they chased each other or a faded red ball they had found among the pile of items from the basement. Harry felt kinda bad about playing with one of Juushirou's memories like that, because it was probably really disrespectful, but the memory connected to it was from one of the few times Juushirou had been able to play when he had been young. Sougyo no Kotowari assured him that its shape was no accident.

Their assurance had made Harry feel a bit better. Surely Juushirou would have made it something else if he really hadn't wanted anyone to play with it?

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

As the months passed, ignoring Juushirou's legacy became easier. The memories were always there at the back of his head, but with Sougyo no Kotowari's help it became easy to keep them at bay. It was the difference between standing on the shore with the waves crashing against his legs, and lying in the water with only a distant strip of land in sight. They still brought him off balance, but at least they could no longer drag him under until he had no idea which way was up anymore.

It became easier to laugh, and the games they played were no longer just for the sake of keeping ancient memories at a distance. While in the real world the Dursleys treated him more and more as their personal slave, in the safety of his Inner World Harry experienced joys of childhood he had never expected to have.

Even when he wasn't meditating, he and Sougyo no Kotowari played. Those games were more subtle, and their most regular opponents were the Dursleys. Staying away for as long as possible after school, hidden away somewhere where Dudley and his gang wouldn't find him so he could spend more time in his Inner World. Messing up on purpose so he would get locked up in the cupboard early but would  _not_ receive more than a slap over the head, while at the same time taking care to keep his Aunt and Uncle from catching on to their ploy. It was challenging, but also fun in a way his life never had been.

And whenever they spotted a Hollow, well, Hide and Seek was a normal children's game. Harry knew better than to confront them in a Human body; Juushirou's memories were very clear about how much it would be suicide to try. It was far safer to just dodge them and leave their extermination to the professionals. As long as Sougyo no Kotowari helped him hide his reiatsu he had very little to fear from the masked creatures. After all, they rarely bothered with Humans who appeared to have no reiatsu at all. Spotting one was more thrilling than anything else, like spotting a wolf or a bear in the wild. They were dangerous, but also Not His Problem, no matter how much he wished to get rid of them. Sougyo no Kotowari was very firm about that.

 _Worryguts, both of them._  Still, Harry felt relieved whenever a passing Hollow didn't even show the slightest interest in him. Those things were  _scary_. How Juushirou could make it his job to fight them he didn't know. Playing Hide and Seek was infinitely better.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Months turned into years, relatively carefree despite the extra memories in his head. And after three had passed, his eleventh birthday brought a surprise that made it clear, once and for all, that he was  _not_  Juushirou.

… Maybe the talking snake should have been a clue?

Harry gaped at the unknown giant, and for once Sougyo no Kotowari were too dumbstruck to say anything.

"I am a  _what?"_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned to make this fic lighthearted. But then my brain got tangled in the serious identity crisis a kid suddenly confronted with centuries worth of memories should suffer. Thus this got a bit... darker than I intended. Heh. Oops?
> 
> I'm also skipping a lot of time. Of course, I could try and think of scenes to fill the years between gaining Juushirou's memories and his eleventh birthday, but right now I can't come up with anything, and I kinda want to keep this story at least shortish. Remember, it was intended as a oneshot. Which means the plot (if you can call it that) is incredibly simple. You don't need a lot of extra scenes when the plot is simple.
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> Given that this chapter contains some of the most emotionally heavy scenes I've ever written (at least so far), feedback would be very much appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for being late. I actually wanted to update last month, but Harry got stuck in Gringotts. So if you're mad about my tardiness, blame the goblins. And Rowling's gigantic plot hole regarding how vault access is regulated. The lack of explanation really was an eyesore.
> 
> I used a little of the dialogues from the book. Obviously, these are not mine.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

As it turned out, Sougyo no Kotowari loved the idea of magic even more than Harry did once Hagrid had convinced them he was really speaking the truth. Which was really saying something.

Though it might have something to do with Dudley's new appendage. His Zanpakutou had never forgiven his cousin his bullying, and had vindictively approved of Hagrid's actions.

 _:We knew of the magical peoples,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari told him excitedly from within his Inner World.  _:Very odd Humans, they are. They can use ambient reiatsu in a really weird way, without ever gaining the ability to see spirits. As if they channel it without ever touching it. And the ways they use it are highly diverse. More diverse than Zanpakutou or kidou, though the effects are far more watered down. One of their weirdest ability is that when they die their souls can, upon the moment of their death, create something very much like an incorporeal gigai and bind themselves to it. Why or how no one knows, though we heard that Kisuke has been trying to find out after he got exiled. Something about interesting potential applications. But that_  you  _are one- This is gonna be so much_ fun _!:_

Fun. Harry smiled. Trust his twin spirits to look at it that way. Not that he didn't agree – being able to turn Dudley into the pig he was sounded great – but even more, Harry believed it would be very useful. The Dursleys hated magic – and now the shock had passed he certainly wasn't surprised that they'd kept his heritage secret; finally the remarks about freaks and normal people made sense – but maybe, if he was careful, he could use it to cheat when doing chores. There had to be household spells that he could use to lighten his workload.

And maybe he could use it to threaten Dudley into leaving him alone.

Harry shared his spirits' grins. Oh, they couldn't  _wait!_

He had never wished for daybreak as fervently as he did now. Sleep refused to come.

Luckily, Hagrid made a very good conversation topic. What on earth did he mean by gamekeeper? The image of a huge room full of games, meant to be borrowed from Hagrid by bored students, had immediately supplied itself. Sougyo no Kotowari laughed and remarked that they didn't think that was what Hagrid had meant. Harry shrugged mentally. He liked the idea regardless. Sougyo no Kotowari agreed that it sounded fun.

And once they'd decided to leave the subject of  _magic_ and Dudley's charming new tail for what it was, Hagrids enormous height sparked a discussion that entertained Harry for quite a while. It was about who was taller: Zaraki, Komamura, or Hagrid. Harry and the twins agreed that Zaraki's hair didn't count.

It was difficult to judge with Harry's own height being so different from what Juushirou remembered, but Harry had fun nonetheless. Since the Eleventh Division Captain was just a tiny bit shorter than the wolf Captain, Zaraki had almost been kicked out of the contest, until Harry reminded the twins that Zaraki might be shorter than Komamura, but the question was whether he was shorter than  _H_ _agrid_. In order to decide who was taller between the three, Harry and Sougyo no Kotowari came up with the most outlandish measuring methods – one of them went like 'we know the height of a teacup, so if you watch the memories and measure in numbers of teacups stacked upon each other, you can get an estimate of the person's height' – but were in the end forced to admit defeat because they really needed to see them next to one another to make a proper judgement. By then, it was very late; Harry guessed it was about half past three in the morning, if not later.

Regardless of their lack of conclusions, Harry thought the discussion had been well worth their time, if only because some ideas had been so hilarious he'd had to bite down on Hagrid's coat to muffle his snickers. The tufts of tiny hairs in his mouth were worth it, even though it took him the better part of an hour to get them out again. He only hoped Hagrid wouldn't notice the teeth marks in the morning.

Absently Harry wondered if Sougyo no Kotowari would have been that eager to participate in the discussion had their forms been adults. From what he'd seen and heard at school, adults could be right harpies about going to sleep on time.

Harry grinned to himself. Good thing they were kids then. He thought they were a lot more fun this way.

He sobered a little. Took a deep breath, and scrapped his courage together to ask the question that had been on the tip of his tongue all night.  _Hey, Sougyo no Kotowari,_ Harry thought, directing the question towards his spirits.  _What do you think about what he told me about my parents? Do you think it's true?_

The twins thought it over.  _:We're not sure about_ all  _of it, but there might be a memory here that resembles what Hagrid says happened,:_ one of them replied unhappily.  _:Some of your earliest ones feel very sad.:_

 _:It wouldn't be very clear though,:_ the other added.  _:Memories from that age rarely are.:_

Harry was quiet for a while.  _Do you think I should watch it?_ he asked hesitantly.

 _:It's up to you to decide whether or not you want to,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari replied.  _:Though we'd first need to find it. Once found… we don't think it would harm you to put it off for a while. It wouldn't be a happy one.:_

Harry stared at the floor and bit his lip. On one hand he wanted to see. Wanted to remember his parents' final moments. But on the other hand he was scared of what he might find. What if their deaths were really painful? He didn't want his only memory of them to be about them screaming.

Then again, he might just have a good idea...

 _Hey, do you think there are more memories?_ Harry inquired.  _Memories from before the attack?_

He could almost  _feel_  the twins sharing a look, their excitement at the idea almost palpable.  _:We'll look,:_ they promised.  _:We'll look while you're sleeping. And we'll also look for the sad one.:_ Harry could feel their sly smiles.: _It may take more than one night though.:_

Harry nodded agreeably, taking their hint for what it was and snuggling deeper into Hagrid's coat. Maybe he could have some memories of his parents. He really hoped he could. He had always wished he could remember them. Harry smiled, wide and anticipating, and closed his eyes in an attempt to get  _some_ rest this night.

He was asleep within seconds.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

The next day he didn't have time for any kind of memories. During breakfast and the boat trip Hagrid kept up a steady stream of conversation, and Harry had no intention to miss anything the older wizard told him, no matter how cold the water was when he splashed it in his face to wake himself up. It was all way too interesting.

Harry and his spirits soon discovered that Hagrid – who had lost his terrifying image forever the moment he blushed and fretted when he guiltily asked Harry not to tell anyone about the magic he'd used on Dudley – was friendly, chaotic, and clumsy. Harry and Sougyo no Kotowari soon decided they liked him.

Then came the public transport, and between suffering from the effects of sleep deprivation, trying to keep Hagrid from embarrassing himself, and looking his eyes out at the unfamiliar sights, Harry was too preoccupied to even  _think_ of what Sougyo no Kotowari had promised.

And then they were  _finally_ at the magic place where they would buy his stuff. Harry was so full of excited anticipation he couldn't stand still, and Sougyo no Kotowari were no better.

However, things went a little differently than he'd anticipated.

Meeting the people in the Leaky Cauldron had been oddly frightening, and Harry trailed after Hagrid towards the back of the establishment feeling distinctly nonplussed. Why were they so enthusiastic about meeting an eleven year old kid? Now if they had been a bunch of Shinigami who knew he was Juushirou's reincarnation then their reaction might have been justified, but they were not! What the hell was going on?

 _:It does seem suspicious,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari agreed.

Harry frowned. He had the feeling Hagrid had severely understated exactly how famous he was. Random people didn't go cuckoo over someone who was just a little well known. This was more what you'd expect for... for a  _superstar_ or something.

 _:Kinda like having multiple Sentarous and Kiyones, only without the arguing,:_ the twins observed, amusement spilling from them in waves.

Harry was horrified. Bloody hell, they shouldn't joke about that! He still hadn't actively accessed Juushirou's memories, but a few memories of the two eternally-bickering Third Seats had surfaced in his dreams once or twice, and those had been enough for him to decide he  _never_ wanted them to find out he was Juushirou's reincarnation. They would kill him with their enthusiasm.

Gods, what did it say about magical people if their behavior could be compared to Juushirou's Third Seats?

… Nothing complementary, that was for sure.

And they were focusing on  _him._

Sougyo no Kotowari giggled, utterly unsympathetic. Scowling, Harry wondered whether they had laughed at Juushirou too whenever his Third Seats had come to bother him. Harry suddenly felt a deep sympathy for his previous incarnation.

Then Hagrid tapped a few bricks, and the wall moved, and Harry was too distracted to keep dwelling on his overly enthusiastic reception.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Diagon Alley was, in one word, Amazing. With a capital A. Harry wished he had four extra pairs of eyes so he didn't have to miss anything of the wonder that was Britain's most important magical shopping district.

There were people in weird clothes, and odd moving trinkets, and animals he'd only ever seen in pictures, and so many other things Harry had never seen, and Harry almost sprained his neck turning it this way and that way in an attempt to see it all. In the back of his head Sougyo no Kotowari kept up a steady stream of excited comments. Harry didn't bother to listen, too caught up in the new world around him.

It was a good thing Hagrid was so big. With how distracted Harry was, he would have lost the man in seconds if the guy hadn't stood head and shoulders above everyone else.

In the end, after a lot of staring on Harry's part and a lot of gentle ushering on Hagrid's, they reached an enormous white building.

"Gringotts, Harry!" Hagrid exclaimed, pointing out the huge building. "Best bank there is. Ye'd be mad ter try an' rob it." Had Hagrid been a less-straightforward man Harry would have thought he pointed it out in the hope to get Harry to walk faster. However, Hagrid seemed genuinely happy that Harry was taking such an interest in his surroundings. Plus the man was honest to the point of putting his foot in in his mouth every time he talked, so Harry promptly binned his speculations regarding ulterior motives.

Instead, he took in the enormous bronze doors and their clearly non-human guard in with wide eyes.

"Yeah, that's a goblin," Hagrid confirmed quietly. Or as quietly as someone like him could. Deep voices always carried, and Hagrid's was no exception. The goblin was very professional and didn't offer any indication that he had heard.

At Sougyo no Kotowari's urging Harry returned the goblin's bow when they walked through the doors. The looks of surprise on both Hagrid's and the goblin's faces were not what they'd aimed for, but they were priceless nonetheless.

The twins were still giggling when they arrived in the great hall, despite the somewhat ominous message on the second set of doors and Hagrid's indirect confirmation of the warning it held.  _:It's not as if it applies to us,:_ they pointed out between their snickers, which, okay, was reason not to be concerned by the grim warning. Harry put it out of his mind. If they could ignore it, he could too.

Instead, he focused on the people, the goblins, and the riches that were casually displayed on the goblins' desks. Well, maybe the goblins had reason to put a warning against thieves on the door. Was it arrogance or confidence that made them handle gems and other valuables right in front of their customers as if the idea that someone unscrupulous might take interest hadn't even crossed their mind?

 _:The latter,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari judged after a few moments of observation.  _:Their warriors are well trained, and there are probably all kinds of magical security measures in place. Though there might be some arrogance as well, or at least pride. They_ are  _showing off after all.:_

 _Well, it sure looks impressive,_  Harry replied, pausing to watch a goblin examine a sparkling stone the size of an adult man's fist. Flecks of light danced across the desk and the swarthy, clever face of the creature every time the goblin moved the diamond a little.

"Come 'ere, Harry," Hagrid called, and Harry hurried to catch up with the giant man when he noticed that Hagrid was already standing at the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr Harry Potter's safe."

Harry stared at the giant in confusion. His safe? Since when did he have a safe?

"You have his key, sir?" the goblin asked.

"Got it 'ere somewhere," said Hagrid. He promptly started emptying his pockets on to the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog-biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry however, was more interested in the key. If the safe was indeed his – he kinda doubted it, since he had never been here before – why would Hagrid have his key?

 _:Ask him,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari urged.  _:If it is indeed your key, then you have the right to know!:_

 _:And the answer better be good,:_ one of them muttered darkly. Harry was a bit startled at the twins' vehemence. A mental prod from twin fingers had him return his focus to reality, just in time to see Hagrid fish a tiny golden key out of one of his pockets.

"Got it," Hagrid said, offering the key to the goblin. Harry looked at it curiously.

The goblin accepted the key and looked at it closely before handing it back. "That seems to be in order."

Harry pulled on Hagrid's sleeve. "Excuse me, but if that is my key, why do you have it?"

Both Hagrid and the goblin focused on him.

"A fair question," the goblin concurred once it became clear Hagrid wasn't going to speak. He glanced at Hagrid before continuing. Hagrid seemed temporarily unable to find his voice. Harry was sure the goblin would have rolled his eyes hadn't it been rude. "We of Gringotts had assumed you were already aware of this, but as this is clearly not the case, I will summarize the circumstances that lead to this situation. You are aware of the way your parents died?"

Harry bit his lip. "I only know that they were murdered," he mumbled.

The goblin nodded. "Apparently the one informing you has been a bit too concise then. Allow me to elaborate. The oddness of your current situation has to do with the way heritages are regulated in magical Britain, the circumstances following your parents deaths, and several concomitant events. Under ordinary conditions, magical folk keep the original copy of their will at home and leave two copies with family and friends whom they trust will take care that the will is properly executed after their death, with the names of the keepers recorded at the Ministry of Magic."

Harry blinked. There was a ministry of magic?

"However," the goblin explained, "much of your parents' house was destroyed, and no will was found at the property. Furthermore, of the people your parents entrusted their wills, evidence suggested that one was a follower of the Dark Lord, while the others were attacked by Death Eaters shortly after the death of your parents. Both copies were declared null and void due to the risk of them having been altered by unauthorized parties. As a consequence, the Wizengamot decided to entrust responsibility for your welfare and your assets to the one person whose affiliation has always been without question. Albus Dumbledore had to swear strict oaths that he would not abuse his privileges, and that upon your eleventh birthday he would turn the key and the authority regarding your assets over to you. Conform his oath, today is the day of the exchange. Since you have not been informed of the situation yet, I would advise you to review the current situation in private."

 _:Accept!:_ the twins hissed.  _:Who knows when you'll have the chance otherwise?:_

Hagrid spoke before Harry could. "'Scuse me, but we can't. We still gotta get all his stuff," Hagrid told the goblin apologetically.

To Harry's surprise, the goblin didn't acknowledge Hagrids words, instead keeping his piercing gaze focused on him. Harry swallowed, gathered his courage, and looked pleadingly up at his escort. "Um… Hagrid? Can I please take a look? If the safe is mine then… then I need to know, now don't I?"

Hagrid sighed. But it was a sigh of acceptance, not irritation. "S'pose so. Try keep it short, 'kay? We got a lot ter do today."

"I'll try," Harry promised. "Where could I review the situation?" he asked the goblin.

The goblin nodded approvingly. "I will have someone take you to one of the account managers," he replied. "Afterwards he will take you down to your vault. Griphook!"

The goblin turned to address Hagrid. "You can wait here until your charge returns. Was there anything else you needed me for?"

Hagrid perked up. "Now yeh ask, I've also got a letter 'ere from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred an' thirteen."

While the goblin read the letter carefully, they were joined by another goblin. Harry assumed that the newcomer was Griphook.

"Very well," the first goblin said, handing the letter back to Hagrid. "Griphook will take you there after Mr. Potter has visited his vault." He gave Griphook his instructions.

"Follow me," Griphook requested brusquely. Harry quickly obeyed, walking behind the goblin as he was guided through one of the many doors of the great hall. Behind it was another room, only a little smaller than the one they had just left. There were about a dozen desks manned by goblins, each far enough apart from the others to give their clients the privacy they required.

Griphook swiftly approached one of the free goblins. "I need the records of Harry Potters accounts," he told his colleague. The goblin nodded and disappeared through one of the smaller doors.

Griphook turned to Harry. "Wait here," he said, gesturing at the chair in front of the desk. "Steelmark will be back shortly."

Harry nodded and sat down. "Thank you, Mr Griphook."

The goblin regarded him for a moment. If he was surprised by Harry's words he didn't show anything. He only said, "I will return once you're done," before leaving.

True to Griphook's word, the goblin Steelmark soon returned, carrying two ledgers. One was so thin that Harry was confident he could get through it in just a few minutes, but the other was hefty enough to make his eyes bulge.

 _:Oh, joy,:_ one of the twins remarked sarcastically.  _:Paperwork.:_

 _Why on earth is it so large?!_ Harry sputtered mentally.

"The Potter accounts," Steelmark stated gruffly, depositing the ledgers on the desk with a heavy  _thud_. "Small one is your personal vault, big one is the family vault. Your personal vault contains only money that was previously set aside for you by your parents. The family vault contains the rest of the fortune and any remaining personal assets. Your personal vault is the only one currently accessible. An annual deposit is made from the family vault to your personal vault to ensure it remains stocked."

"… Thank you," Harry said, dazed by the information. He stared at the ledgers, before picking up the smallest one.  _What on earth am I supposed to do with this?_

 _:Don't worry, Harry. We'll help you,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari assured him.

The records his personal vault weren't very complicated. The annual deposit was clearly documented, and there really hadn't been any other activity there. The only thing they did regarding his personal vault was change the settings regarding who was allowed access. At the moment Dumbledore had the authority to grant someone access and was the one who monitored the activity of the vault. On Sougyo no Kotowari's advice Harry switched the monitoring to himself and made sure that anyone who wished access would need to have his explicit permission every single time.

Then it was the turn of the large ledger. Harry grimaced, but started reading it nonetheless. From the records it was soon clear that nothing had been removed from the family vault since a year before his parents' deaths. When he reached the list of the deposits however…

"Bloody hell!" Harry exclaimed. Immediately he slapped his hand over his mouth, guiltily checking whether or not he had disturbed someone. No one was glaring at him, though he was pretty sure Steelmark was laughing on the inside. Harry's Zanpakutou spirits certainly were.

"Something amiss?" the goblin asked.

Harry felt heat rise to his cheeks. "Sorry. It's just.. where did all this money  _come_ from?" he asked, sounding lost as he stared at the sheer number of deposits in the years directly following after his parents' deaths.

The goblin peered at the record he was looking at. "Ah, yes. Those were mostly from admirers who wished to support you after your loss. Though there is also a sum from the auctioning of what remained of the house of your parents. Mr. Dumbledore had us move what was left of your parents' possessions before he sold the house and the accompanying land to the Ministry. He deemed it too expensive to restore it to its former state. Justly so. Dark magic tends to do deep, long lasting damage, even to inanimate objects. The Ministry turned the house into a monument, I believe. Your parents' possessions were also deposited in the family vault. You can access it once you are of age."

"I… see," Harry replied. He just went from penniless less than an hour ago, to absolutely  _loaded,_ even though he couldn't access most of what he owned yet _._ It was almost impossible to wrap his mind around.

One thing was for sure: there was  _no way_  the Dursleys had known about this.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Fortunately for his mental wellbeing, the rest of the visit was a lot less world shaking. The carts were a blast, and there was something incredibly funny in a bad sort of way about seeing someone as imposing as Hagrid shake from a simple cart ride.

"Um, can I ask you something, Hagrid?" Harry asked the trembling man while Griphook busied himself with opening the vault. Hagrid grunted something intelligible. Harry took it as permission. "What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?"

Hagrid shook his head, still looking a little green. "Can't tell yeh that," he said curtly. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Reluctantly, Harry accepted that answer. He was distracted by the sound of the vault door swinging open. What followed made Harry cough and effectively took his mind off Hagrid's letter.

 _Urgh, why the smoke?_  Harry complained mentally, trying to wave the green fumes out of his face.

 _:Dramatic purposes?:_ Sougyo no Kotowari guessed with an inappropriate amount of good cheer. Probably because they didn't have to suffer the smoke.

Their cheerful quips died when Harry caught sight of the contents of the vault. He felt his jaw drop. His Zanpakutou spirits were similarly affected.

_What in the world…?_

_:… That's a lot of shiny stuff,:_ the twins muttered as they looked at the piles and piles of gold, silver, and bronze before them.

Harry agreed with that assessment. It was one thing to see the numbers on paper. Quite another to see it in reality. And here he had thought that 'swimming in money' was just a metaphor. Considering the size of the piles, Harry probably could do just that. He turned to Hagrid and Griphook, not able to believe this  _really_  belonged to him.

Hagrid seemed to have recovered from his nausea and was smiling, amused by his reaction. "All yers," he told Harry cheerfully. Griphook just looked mildly annoyed.

It took a while, but once Harry had stopped gawking at the piles of money and had gotten an impromptu lesson on magical currency, they were off to Hagrid's mystery vault.

His curiosity spurred him on, and he made sure to be the first to look into the vault. He imagined all kind of riches, or hefty tomes of forgotten lore, but reality proved to be different. Harry would freely admit he was disappointed.

That changed when he noticed Hagrid's reaction to the tiny, paper-wrapped package.

His mental eyebrows jumped up all the way into his hairline.  _Why is he so nervous?_  He was pretty sure there was nothing that the package could contain that required such secretiveness. Not if it was meant for a  _school._

But if it wasn't really Hogwarts business-

He blinked as realization hit.  _Was I just…?_

He could feel Sougyo no Kotowari's bemused surprise.  _:… He used you as a cover.:_

 _I wonder whose idea that was,_ Harry remarked. Hagrid didn't seem the type to be that sneaky.

 _:Well, if it really was noted as school business, it probably was someone from the school,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari concluded.  _:Probably Dumbledore, given the letter. Hagrid may be nice and friendly, but we don't think sneakiness is his forte.:_

Harry nodded thoughtfully. Yeah, that sounded probable.

_But if it's important enough to require a cover, what on earth can it be?_

Sougyo no Kotowari perked up and immediately came up with the most outlandish suggestions. Harry had to fight to keep from laughing out loud. He supposed he didn't really care what it was as long as it wasn't something like the Hougyoku.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

The rest of the Diagon Ally trip was a lot less mysterious, but as fun as Gringotts had been shocking. The meeting with his future classmate had been somewhat odd, but Harry had put it quickly out of his mind so he wouldn't miss a second of the magical spectacle that was the Ally.

Currently Harry found himself in a dark and cluttered shop. He slowly blinked. Dozens of round, staring eyes blinked back.

"There yeh go, Harry," Hagrid said cheerfully, oblivious to Harry's bafflement. "Just pick one yeh like."

When Hagrid had said he would buy Harry an owl for his birthday, Harry hadn't really believed him. But it looked like the man was serious. Wide eyed, Harry let his eyes rove over rows upon rows of birds. There were more than  _thirty!_  Harry wandered closer, and spotted one owl near the back that immediately drew his attention. A beautiful white owl with little black flecks scattered over its head and wings.

Sougyo no Kotowari fully agreed.  _:Oooh,:_ they clamored enthusiastically. _:Pick that one, pick that one!:_

 _Why do you like that one?_  Harry asked them, curious, peering up at the regal bird. He gasped softly when the owl turned its head in his direction and returned his gaze with the haughty stateliness of a queen.

 _:It's pretty and got Juu's colors,:_ the twins answered, just as excited as Harry at the owl's show of interest. _:Except the eyes, but that's okay.:_

Harry quirked a mental eyebrow at them.  _Juushirou's colors?_

 _:White with bits of black!:_ Sougyo no Kotowari chorused, before bursting into giggles.

Harry smiled and picked the white one.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Mr. Ollivander, Harry had decided shortly after entering the wandmaker's shop, was  _creepy._

Mr. Ollivander, Sougyo no Kotowari had decided in the same moment, was  _funny._

Harry had rolled his eyes. He hadn't expected anything else after the man had managed to surprise Hagrid and him. That the old wandmaker was evidently unfazed by widespread destruction had just been a bonus.

"Can people have more than one wand?" Harry had asked during the long time it took him to find the right one, thinking that a spare would be handy if something ever happened to his wand. They looked awfully brittle for such an important piece of equipment.

"Very rarely, Mr. Potter, and trying to find a second would be quite inadvisable," Mr. Ollivander had replied, pausing his search for the right wand to give Harry a severe look. The kind that Aunt Petunia had used when telling him what  _not_ to do with the vacuum cleaner when she was teaching him.  _Don't be foolish,_ his Aunt's had said, and  _don't you dare ask again._  Mr. Ollivander's look was a bit gentler, but no less serious. "The wand chooses the wizard, and seldom are they willing to share," Mr. Ollivander had explained, his tone cold with warning. "Those who try to force a bond with a second wand that does not immediately respond to them may end up unable to perform any magic with either wand at all. Only when a wand is broken or lost forever may a new one take its place."

Startled by the unexpectedly stern rebuke, Harry had apologized for the – apparently – rude question, and had instead politely inquired about the possibility of a holster to keep it safe. That had mellowed the wandmaker, who clearly appreciated such thoughtfulness towards his crafts.

Harry sighed as he followed Hagrid through the streets. His eyes were drawn to his new wand, which was safely sheathed in a simple wood-and-leather holster that was currently attached to his belt. He barely noticed Sougyo no Kotowari falling silent.

_The wand chooses the wizard..._

Harry couldn't help but wonder what  _else_  the wand did.

 _:You'll find out,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari murmured confidently.

Harry smiled.  _I know,_ he just wished he could do that  _now._

Sougyo no Kotowari laughed.  _:So impatient.:_

Harry grinned, and then had to put their conversation on hold because Hagrid looked mildly thrown by way Harry appeared to smile and laugh at random.

"It is nothing, Hagrid," Harry reassured the giant. "I was just thinking about Hogwarts. I wish I could go right away."

Understanding flooded the large man's face. Hagrid smiled. "Aa, I know. It's a great place. Yeh just wait. Yeh'll like it there," he promised.

Harry nodded. He was sure he would.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

All things come to an end, and Harry's shopping trip with Hagrid was no exception.

Naturally, Harry had been worried about the reception he would receive at the Dursleys. But against all expectations, getting his magical stuff past the Dursleys suspicious eyes turned out to be remarkably easy. They were scared stiff that Hagrid would turn up again the moment they tried anything and therefore made no move to stop him from carrying everything upstairs, which suited Harry just fine. Harry had made preparations in case they would try to lock his belongings away, but not having to test them just yet was a relief.

It also spared him a lot of worry. If what he suspected about his wand was true, then he really wanted to keep it close.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

"So what do we name her?" Harry wondered half an hour later, after he'd been almost thrown into his room. He wanted to visit his spirits, but first things first. The owl needed a name. Which was more trouble than it should be, given that he had zero experience naming something.

He scrutinized his new companion, speaking out loud to his spirits since there was no one to hear him anyway. "The shopkeeper said she's a girl, so we can't call her Juushirou," he said, ignoring the disappointed 'awws' from his spirits.

The owl stared imperiously back. Harry wondered if she was smart enough to understand what he was saying. She got to be able to deliver mail, so she had to be quite clever. Plus, she came from a magical shop. Could you make animals smarter with magic?

"You guys got any ideas?" he asked his Zanpakutou. As old as they were they were bound to know something nice. He didn't have the slightest idea what might be a good name for a pet like her, and digging through Juushirou's memories was still not something he wanted to try. Especially not when Sougyo no Kotowari were perfectly capable of thinking of something.

 _:Yuugao?:_ one of them suggested after a second of contemplation.

 _:Means Moonflower,:_ the other added helpfully.

Harry looked at his owl speculatively. "No," he decided. "A flower sounds too… nice. Or gentle. She got huge claws and a really wicked beak. She isn't a flower."

The bird made an odd, rattling sound. Somehow it sounded like agreement. Harry blinked, taken aback. Did she just understand him?

 _:Gecchouseki? Sekkei? Hyouden?:_ one twin offered, amused by Harry's surprise but for once staying on topic.

 _:Moonstone? Snowy Valley? Field of Eternal Snow?:_ the other translated.

Then the twins grinned mischievously.  _:Or we could call her Sode no Shirayuki.:_

Harry snorted. Hell no. No matter how nice Kuchiki Rukia seemed in Juushirou's memories, he was  _not_ naming his owl after her Zanpakutou. Who knew what her reaction would be if she ever found out?

Ignoring his Zanpakutou's moues of disappointment, Harry studied the regal bird. Their last suggestion aside, each of the names fit rather well. He thought for a moment and shrugged to himself. Might as well see if she really was as smart as she appeared to be. "What do you think girl? Sougyo no Kotowari suggested names that mean Moonstone, Snowy Valley, and Field of Eternal Snow. Which one would you like?" He paused, and then added, "Click once for the first, twice for the second, and three times for the third name. Four times if you don't like any of them."

To his surprise the owl actually seemed to think it over, before clicking her beak three times, clearly and deliberately.

He blinked, bemused and amused in equal measures. Wow. That was just- Wow. Sougyo no Kotowari agreed, awed and more than a little excited.

"Field of Eternal Snow, huh?" he finally said. He gave his owl a quizzical look. "It is pronounced as 'Hyouden'."

She made a soft sound, more a bark than the hoot he'd expected, but it sounded satisfied.

Harry huffed a laugh, shaking his head at the weird situation. "Well, Hyouden it is."

Sougyo no Kotowari cheered gleefully. And somewhere, on the edge of his hearing, Harry thought he heard a whisper of a third voice laughing.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

As it turned out, he didn't have to keep wondering about his wand. That night, when Harry visited his Inner World, there was another spirit waiting for him, sitting at a low table with Sougyo no Kotowari as if she had always been there.

For a long moment, all Harry could do was stare. Even the twins' greeting him with enthusiastic hugs didn't drag his eyes away.

The spirit was a girl and she looked as much as a child as Sougyo no Kotowari did. Apparently that was a trend for his spirits. Briefly Harry wondered what it said about him. A none-too-subtle poke from the twins pulled him out of his reverie. He felt himself redden. Ah, yes. Staring was bad. Yet he couldn't really help himself.

The new spirit's skin was the same shade as his Sougyo no Kotowari's, but her hair looked like red copper, glowing ruby and gold in the sunlight, part of it twisted into a knot at the back of her head before it spilled like a curtain of flames down her back. She was wearing a dark carmine kimono, an obi the color of the wood of his wand around her waist, decorated with a delicate, golden, feather-like pattern. Clusters of scarlet berries and tiny white flowers were woven through her hair and embroidered on her clothes, accentuated by gleaming, deep-green leaves. From all her features her eyes were the most startling of all, with pupil-less irises that glowed like embers from beneath her demurely lowered lashes.

Sougyo no Kotowari were talking a mile a minute to her even when they were dragging their wielder to the female spirit, much to her quiet amusement. Harry was quietly grateful. Trust the twins to break the ice just by being their normal, overly exuberant selves.

Harry hesitantly sat down and observed her for a while, trying to find something to say. She observed him in return, her intense gaze showing an equal amount of interest. In the end he decided on a simple greeting. Clearing his throat he held out his hand. "Um, hi. I'm Harry."

Her lips curved into a pleased smile as she took his hand, giving a small shake as if she didn't really know how much was required to complete the gesture. Her voice was soft, like a breeze rustling through leaves or feathers, but when he strained his ears a little he didn't have much trouble discerning the words of her greeting.  _"Pleasure meeting you, Harry."_

Cue awkward silence. Harry shot the twins a look, but they only smiled encouragingly. He let go of her hand and ran his fingers through his hair. Holding a conversation was incredibly difficult, especially because the only meaningful conversations he'd ever had had been with Sougyo no Kotowari, and they had gotten to know each other without ever having to talk about it.

"Um, so... are you my wand?" he asked, wanting to have it confirmed just in case he was wrong.

She nodded, the gesture almost formal.  _"I am,"_ she whispered." _At least as much as those two,"_  – she gestured at Sougyo no Kotowari – " _are your blades. Though from what they've told me you have not manifested them yet."_

Uh, no. He hadn't. Mainly because he didn't feel ready yet to face his soul's Shinigami past, but also because he had learned something about asauchi during the memory-dreams, and Sougyo no Kotowari would be stronger if they had a solid anchor outside his soul. It would make their manifestation more stable in the long run. Not to mention that it would be pretty difficult to manifest them when he was still in his body. Harry didn't mind. He was perfectly content to put manifesting his Zanpakutou off until  _after_ his death, and preferably until he was ready to enter the Academy.

"No, I haven't," Harry admitted. And then, to move the conversation away from his previous life, and because he was curious, he asked, "do you have a name?"

The spirit's smile fell, and she shook her head.

Harry bit his lip. Well, names were as good a start as any if he wanted to get to know his wand-spirit better. "Do you want one?" he offered.

Her eyes lighted up – like, _literally;_  it was a little creepy – and she nodded, her smile returning wider than before.

Harry scratched his head. Hmm, maybe he shot himself in the foot with that offer. "Any preferences?" he inquired, because let's face it, he had no idea how to go about naming someone. Hyouden was his first time ever, and Sougyo no Kotowari did the bulk of the work for her name. And Hyouden was a  _pet._ He reckoned that the name of his wand was even more important.

The spirit tilted her head, looking thoughtful. Then she ran a finger over some of the crimson berries on her sleeve.  _"Something with this color,"_  she decided. _"But not the color itself."_

Harry sighed. Damn. Of course she wouldn't make it  _easy_.

He stared at the berries for a while. "You wouldn't like the name 'Holly' now would you?" he asked rhetorically.

She gave him the deeply unimpressed look he deserved.

Yeah, okay. It  _was_ a very uninspired name. 'Phoenix' wouldn't be on the table then either.

Harry sighed again and cast an inquiring look at Sougyo no Kotowari. They were smiling in a way that immediately told him he would get no help from them. Apparently they'd decided they had already helped out enough with Hyouden. Harry wanted to scowl. He was pretty sure they had gotten the easier deal.

Gits.

A name, a name... something with red. What were the red things he could think of?

Dudley's old ball came to mind. As did Dudley's broken bike. Phone booths. The roses Uncle Vernon had once gotten for Aunt Petunia...

Hey, now there was an idea.

"Rose?" Harry suggested.

His new spirit thought that one over, but then pursed her lips. That was a no then.

"Is it okay if it's a flower?" he asked, because, hey, there were a lot more flowers that were red too. He was sure he could think of some if she didn't mind having a flower name.

She smiled at him, mild as candlelight.  _"If you can find the right one."_

So not a yes but not a no either. Well, he could work with that.

"... Poppy?" he suggested, looking at Sougyo no Kotowari for a translation, because let's be honest; he didn't think 'Poppy' as a name suited this spirit.

"That would be Hinageshi," one of the twins supplied helpfully. Harry tilted his head in thought and decided it sounded nice. He turned to his new spirit. "Would you like to be called Hinageshi?"

The girl considered it a while, but then shook her head.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and looked outside for inspiration. And blinked.

Quickly he got to his feet, throwing a fleeting "be right back," at the spirits as he rushed through the door to the garden, where he quickly sought out a distant patch full of large, delicate clusters of bright red flowers on long, thin stalks. He picked one and returned to his spirits, offering the flower to the girl.

"I don't remember what it's called," he said. "But Sougyo no Kotowari should know. Do you like it?"

The twins cast a quick look at the flower and grinned. "It's a manjushage," one of them supplied dutifully.

"A red spider lily," the other added.

Harry's new spirit accepted the flower and studied it for a while. Whispered the name as if tasting it. Ran a finger over one of the curved petals as if judging the delicate texture.

A pleased smile curved her lips, and her eyes lighted up in delight. "Yes," she said, satisfied, and suddenly her voice was no longer just a whisper. Instead it was as clear as Sougyo no Kotowari's.

"Manjushage," she repeated, cradling the flower in her hands. "That is my name."

Harry's chest glowed with warmth, even stronger than when his wand had chosen him back in Ollivander's shop. Sougyo no Kotowari's smiles were as bright as Manjushage's, and their cheers almost rattled the shingles off the roof.

That night, three became four, and the welcoming of Manjushage in the House of his Inner World swiftly became one of Harry's most precious memories. He couldn't be more happy, and already loved being a wizard.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter finished. Finally! Coming up next: Harry goes to Hogwarts! Oh, how time flies...
> 
> So, how do you guys like Manjushage, and the idea of wand spirits? Personally, I'm already pretty fond of her.
> 
> In regards to her name, I have to admit that at first I was going to call her Shinkou (deep crimson). Looking back, I'll admit that was pretty uninspired, even though there are some interesting additional meanings.
> 
> And then I remembered the red spider lily. The bit of trivia that caught my attention: the red spider lily is a Japanese member of the Amaryllis family, and is also known as the red magic lily, the resurrection lily, and the flower of the dead, among other names. Quite fitting I think, for a spirit born from holly and phoenix feather, who belongs to a wizard who is the reincarnation of a Shinigami (and who is likely to become a Shinigami again, given that he already knows the name of his Zanpakutou).
> 
> Other things that are associated with red spider lilies is the loss of memory, and meeting someone you will never meet again. Which is also fitting, especially if you apply it to his connection to Juushirou. In a way they met, but they will never meet in person. And so are forever separated by time, which matches the Japanese story about the Manjushage.
> 
> (And yes, she would know this, at least subconsciously. She is connected to Harry's soul, including the parts he doesn't want to acknowledge. And Juushirou would have known these little bits of trivia, given how long he'd lived and had a skirt chaser as a best friend. In my opinion, spirits get their names based on the meaning their wielders/owners ascribe to it. Which is why Harry's wand spirit chose Manjushage.)
> 
> Please let me know what you thought!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muahaha! I made it before the end of the year! Last minute update, whoohoo! I got a lot of response for the previous chapter. I'm so glad you all like the idea of wand spirits as much as I do!
> 
> I think I should mention that for this chapter I took quite a few pieces of dialogues and descriptions from the book. Obviously, I can't take credit for those.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

_He was standing before a closed door. On the other side was the beginning of what he hoped to be his future. A sudden rush of nervous fear had him rooted on the spot, afraid to step forward and take what he had worked so hard for. Wiping his palms on his new uniform he took a shallow, steadying breath to soothe the mild irritation in his chest, hoping to stave off a deeper burn._

_He could do it, he told himself. He would prove himself capable. And if it would be more difficult for him than for others, well, life was always filled with trials. His was just a bit more difficult to work around than other's._

_He shook his head, determination returning. He would prove everyone wrong. He would be so much more than what people could see right now. He was sick of people saying he couldn't do something without even allowing him the attempt. He would prove that physical weakness and other people's delicately voiced beliefs didn't define someone._

_He refused to conform to other people's expectations. He had decided that, from the moment he heard of the Academy and had thought,_ I want that _. If he failed, he would forever be doomed to stay inside, like a delicate figurine of spun glass, to be wrapped in wool and cotton and put away so he wouldn't break. But at least he would have_ tried, _instead of submitting to the whims of his disease and his family's excessive concern without even a token of resistance._

_He opened the door and stepped into the classroom, politely bowing to the instructor before taking his seat. Anticipation curled his lips in a tentative smile to answer the curious glances of his fellow students._

_He would create his own future._

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

The morning Harry was leaving for Hogwarts was both the most exciting day of his life, as well as the most nerve-wracking one. He hadn't slept too well, being up a good three hours before he even had to be. One of Juushirou's memories had surfaced during his dreams. It was not what you'd call a regular occurrence. On Harry's request Sougyo no Kotowari tried to keep the memories away, but sometimes one slipped past their guard, like this one had.

Though this particular memory had been ridiculously appropriate. Harry suspected that it had reached his dreams because it had matched his mood so well. Juushirou had been just as nervous about going to the Academy as Harry was about going to Hogwarts, if for very different reasons. Juushirou's worries had been more along the line of whether his illness would truly be the insurmountable encumbrance others had claimed it was, while Harry was more worried about whether he would be accepted by his peers.

To give himself something to do while waiting for the Dursleys to wake, he did another mental check to ensure he had packed everything.

 _:Calm down, Harry,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari rebuked cheerily. _:You're being silly.:_

 _Says you,_ he shot back sullenly, fidgeting with a frayed edge of his oversized clothes, painfully aware how bad an impression he would make thanks to the snippets of Juushirou's knowledge that had seeped through over the years. You're _not famous_.

Gods, he hoped no one would recognize him at the train station. He looked ridiculous in Dudley's clothes, and he couldn't wear his new ones yet because he knew that his Uncle would be nearly apoplectic with rage at such obvious proof of his nephew's freakiness. But he didn't want his future classmates to see him like this either. He didn't want them to get the wrong impression. Given how important everyone seemed to think he was, he was sure they would hold it against him.

 _:Then switch to your school uniform as soon as you can,:_ Manjushage replied sensibly. _:Keeping your head down and your scar covered should allow you to avoid being recognized for a few minutes.:_

 _:What she said!:_ Harry could just _feel_ his twins' utterly unsympathetic grins. _:At least your uniform is a far sight better than the uniform Aunt Giraffe made for you. You were right that it would look like pieces of elephant. As long as the other students don't realize you're_ the _Harry Potter there's no reason for them to link the scruffy newbie to you. Just change fast. You'll be fine!:_

Clearly, his spirits were optimists. Harry sighed, absently checking whether his wand was still securely attached to his belt and hidden by his clothes.

 _:Harry, you're going to_ Hogwarts. _You're going to learn_ magic. _Cheer up! It'll be fun!:_

Despite his worries, Harry smiled. It was difficult to remain anxious when the three people in your head were all but vibrating with impatience. Manjushage was generally calmer than the excitable twins, but she was very young and new to the world, and was therefore even more easily interested in new things than Sougyo no Kotowari. Especially when it came to magic, which was the core of her very being. She was eager to learn more about herself and the power she wielded, particularly after hearing about Zanpakutou from Sougyo no Kotowari. It was one of the topics they looked forward to learning about at Hogwarts.

Harry was also glad that his spirits got along well. The twins had been more than happy to take the younger spirit under their wing and teach her about Harry's Inner World and everything it contained. Though this was not always a good thing, as his Zanpakutou spirits could be right terrors whenever they were in a mischievous mood, and Manjushage rarely protested getting drafted in their plots to entertain themselves. It was always a tossup whether Harry would be entertained by their antics, or whether he would suffer from them.

However, at the moment none of them was focused on mischief. Instead, everyone was thrilled to finally go to Hogwarts. For Harry it was as if he had three overly energetic and very eager kittens in his head, each more than ready to poke their nose into anything and everything they could find.

It was amazingly soothing, despite their restless energy making it impossible for him to be truly calm.

A pale shadow blocked the sunlight for a second, and then the warm weight of Hyouden settled on his shoulder. Her claws lightly pricked through his clothes and scratched his skin. His aunt and uncle had been remarkably lenient regarding everything to do with magic even after they had recovered from Hagrid's visit. All Harry had to do was keep it out of their sight and they were perfectly happy to ignore him and everything to do with him, which was quite possibly the kindest thing they'd ever done for him, even though it got a bit depressing after a while.

Dudley, on the other hand, was terrified of him, possibly because he thought that Hagrid could appear any moment whenever Harry was close by. Harry felt a tiny bit bad about Dudley's new tail. It hadn't been Dudley who had insulted Dumbledore after all, so he hadn't deserved to be the target of Hagrid's retaliation. Then again, after all the bullying he had suffered at his cousin's hands he wasn't above a bit of vindictive gloating when seeing Dudley scared, embarrassed, and in pain for once.

"Hey Hyouden," he cooed at the large bird pressed against the side of his face as he stroked her feathers. "Ready for the big day?"

Hyouden gave a small hoot of confirmation. During the last month, Harry had come to realize more and more exactly how clever his feathered companion was. She understood his words incredibly well. He considered himself very lucky he had chosen her back in the pet shop. Hyouden affectionately nibbled at a wild lock of hair as thanks when he offered her an owl treat. She was probably making it even more a mess than usual, but Harry couldn't bring himself to mind. He appreciated Hyouden's affections more than he cared about neat hair. His hair was a lost cause anyway.

Harry smiled, happy despite his nerves. This year's August had been better for him than any ever before. His family hadn't bothered him. For the first time in years he had something to look forward to, to a place where he _wouldn't_ be a freak. He and his spirits had studied his books in detail, and Manjushage had fitted in as if she had always been there. They all couldn't wait to try their hand at actually _doing_ magic.

And best of all, after more than a week searching, Sougyo no Kotowari had found memories of his parents. Most were vague, jumbled impressions of voices he trusted, being held, and feeling safe and content. Understandable, since he had been so very small back then, and probably hadn't understood much that first year. But there were also a few hazy memories of a man with glasses and the same messy black hair as him, and a red-haired woman with his own green eyes. Those memories alone had almost been enough to reduce him to tears, because he had always wanted to know what his parents looked like, and _remembering them_ was more than he had ever dared hope for.

But there was one memory even more beloved than that. The one that really had him bawling in his spirits' arms like a little kid. A simple, slightly misty memory in which his parents held him, and kissed his forehead, and said: _"We love you, Harry. We love you so much,"_ as if they were afraid they wouldn't be able to tell him again. And his father had smiled, and his mother had chuckled when his baby-self had grabbed a handful of her hair. It had been a beautiful autumn red and curled a little. Both his parents had looked a little sad and a bit worried, but they had  _meant_ what they'd said.

The memory told him what Harry had wanted to know ever since the Dursleys had started badmouthing him and his parents.

His parents had loved him.

 _His_ parents. Had _loved him._ Harry hadn't been able to stop smiling for days.

He had also promptly demanded to be taught how to make memory items, and Sougyo no Kotowari had eagerly complied. The house now held a couple of simple frames with pictures of his parents – prominently displayed in the sitting room they spent the most time in – and the memory of his parents telling him they loved him had become a necklace. It was a simple chain with an oval locket, and in a fit of inspiration Harry had made it gold with a silver owl on it, as a tribute to his one companion that couldn't be with him in his Inner World. Inside was a picture of his parents holding him, taken directly from the memory. Harry had immediately hung the locket around his neck, and that was where it was located every time he entered his Inner World. It was like carrying a candle in his heart.

"Come Hyouden," he sighed, cutting of his musings and carrying his owl to her cage. "Time to get ready. Uncle Vernon won't wait a second for us, so we better be set to leave."

Hyouden obediently went to sit in her cage, calmly watching as he shut the door. Within less than ten minutes Harry had every piece of luggage ready at the front door, lined up so everything would be as little in the way as possible. Uncle Vernon didn't like it when things got in his way, especially not when they were Harry's when he was reluctantly doing Harry a favor.

Given how much his uncle was against him attending Hogwarts, Harry didn't dare aggravate his uncle in any way the entire morning, afraid that the man would leave him behind if he put one toe out of line. He held his breath right until he was sitting in his uncle's large car as rumbled to life beneath him, and pulled out of the driveway with Harry and every piece of luggage on board. Harry carefully didn't sigh of relief, but he certainly felt as if a weight had fallen off his shoulders when they were finally on their way. Then again, it was possible that his uncle was just glad to have him gone for most of the year and thought the small effort on his part to be a fair prize to get rid of his freak of a nephew.

When they left the neighborhood, Harry shivered, as if the temperature had suddenly dropped a few degrees. He blamed it on nerves and focused on being quiet and unobtrusive so his uncle would keep his word. His uncle could be petty and vindictive when he felt like it. Harry had seen how far his uncle was willing to go to deny him his heritage during the fiasco with the letters. Harry wouldn't put it past the fat man to dump him somewhere at the side of the road so he would never reach the train in time. And Harry refused to let that happen.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Miracle of miracles, Uncle Vernon brought Harry straight to the station with plenty of time to spare. He even helped Harry put his luggage on a trolley, which was astonishingly nice of him. Harry ignored his uncle's spiteful gloating with practiced ease, instead distractedly nodding at his uncle's barbs. As his uncle's car disappeared in the London traffic, Harry briefly wondered whether it was Hagrid's actions or the wish to be rid of him as soon as possible that made his uncle so mellow. Probably Hagrid, he decided. His uncle didn't mind putting a bit of effort in denying Harry something he wanted.

Harry sighed and shook his head as he set out towards platforms nine and ten. He was grateful for his spirits' curiosity, because thanks to them he had checked the ticket Hagrid had given him long before he needed it, and had realized that as far as he knew, no platform ever had such a number. It had been a small jump from there to assume it was probably hidden from muggles, especially after their experience with Diagon Alley and its hidden entrance. Hyouden would never have made it to the game keeper in time to bring him Hagrid's answer to his questions if they hadn't prodded Harry into asking them. He didn't want to know how he could have found platform 9¾ otherwise, and he would have hated to prove his uncle's sneers right.

From Hagrid's return letter Harry knew that between platforms nine and ten was supposed to be a barrier, concealed as a piece of wall that divided the two platforms. Particularly, the wall with the ticket barrier. You were supposed to be able to walk straight through it. When he reached it he hesitated, looking at the ticket boxes with doubt. They _looked_ very solid to him.

 _:There is a weird energy around them,:_ Manjushage said suddenly. A rush of excitement spread from her to Harry. He could feel how eager she was to explore.

 _:We don't sense it,:_ one of the twins remarked, mildly puzzled.

 _:It's just a little pressure,:_ the other added _. :As if it's one of those places with a little more reishi than most.:_

 _I think I feel what Sougyo no Kotowari is feeling,_ Harry observed, moving closer towards that feeling of heaviness in the air. _Though it does feel odd. You think this is the magic?_

 _:Think so. If you two are recognizing it as off,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari replied thoughtfully. _:Like reishi, but different. Maryoku?:_

_Don't know. What's that?_

_:Magical energy.:_

Harry scratched his head, thinking that over. _Could be,_ he allowed.

 _:For now, let's assume it is,:_ Manjushage decided. _:Now go on! Otherwise we might miss the train!:_

Casting a look at the clock, he saw that she was right and they had only fifteen minutes left before the train would leave, and who knew how long boarding would take? _Right then,_ Harry thought, taking a deep , he leaned against the barrier. Hagrid had said he should be able to pass right through…

He did. It was like stepping though a thin sheet of water, only without getting wet. Harry felt the magical concealment wash over him, as if a heavy jacket had suddenly landed on his shoulders. For a moment he frowned at the magical wall behind him. From this side it looked like a wrought-iron archway with the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_ on it. Huh. Seemed like magic was indeed similar to reishi, in that large amounts of magical energy had weight. Well, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Sougyo no Kotowari _had_ said before that there was a connection between the two.

 _:It is,:_ Manjushage confirmed, curiosity spilling from her in waves. _:The magical energy here is very dense.:_

 _Well, that is good to know I suppose…_ Harry trialed off, jaw dropping at the sight that greeted him. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead read _Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock._ The crowd in front of it was as blatantly magical as the crowd at Diagon Alley had been. Cats, owls, robes, heavy trunks, _levitating_ trunks; it was undeniable that they were at the right place. Quickly he made his way to the train, keeping an eye out for an empty compartment. When he found one he first put Hyouden inside, opening her cage so she could stretch her wings if she wanted. Then he dragged his trunk towards the steps. He got stuck when he actually tried to lift it off the trolley and into the train.

 _Bloody hell. Where did people get levitating trunks? Should have gotten one,_ Harry thought to himself frowning as he panted from the effort.

"Need some help?" someone asked behind him.

Harry turned around. Behind him stood a handsome boy in the Hogwarts uniform with an expression of friendly inquiry on his face. Probably from an other year, given that he had a black and yellow trim on his uniform, unlike Harry, whose uniform was still plain black. Drat, which house was that?

"Well, can't say I'd mind some," he replied. He carefully didn't sweep his sweaty hair out of his face even though the strands obscured his vision a little, instead offering the boy a grateful smile.

The other boy grinned. "Well, come on then."

Together they managed to get the heavy trunk inside and stuff it into a corner of the compartment. "There you go," the older boy puffed, wiping the worst of the sweat from his brow. "Bloody books. I don't see why they can't put a charm on them to make them lighter right in the shop."

"Now that would be nice," Harry agreed. "Thanks for the help." He held out a hand to shake. "My name is Harry."

"Cedric," the older boy said cheerfully, accepting the handshake. "You're a first year, right?"

"Yeah. Guess I'll have to practice lifting my trunk for next time," Harry said ruefully. "Should have known it would be an issue. You?"

Cedric laughed. "Sounds like a plan. I'm starting my third year. But don't hesitate to ask for my help if you need it. Or ask someone else. Most people here wouldn't mind giving a hand if you're nice about it. Though Hufflepuffs tend to be the most willing, generally."

"Hufflepuff? Which colors are those?"

"These," Cedric said, tapping the yellow and black crest with the badger on his chest. "We Hufflepuffs are a helpful lot. Don't believe anything you hear from other houses about us. A good work ethic and loyalty are far more important than ambition or wanting to read a lot, if you ask me. Generally, we are the most liked out of the four houses, and experience the least strife. Unlike Gryffindor and Slytherin. Those two are always at each other's' throat. It's a miracle if we get through the day without _some_ of their students getting into a fight. I think it's because Gryffindors are too straightforward while Slytherins are too sneaky. It clashes. Why they still share classes in beyond me. And the Ravens have enough internal competition to make up for the lack of house rivalry."

"I can imagine," Harry agreed, a bit overwhelmed by the unexpected flood of information. And then, just because he felt he had to know, "Do all houses have negative opinions about the others?"

Cedric laughed, looking a little sheepish. "Probably. We're all pretty biased. We all like to think our house is the best, of course, and try to get new students to think the same. If you want to get a good idea of the houses you should ask people from every house about them. At least then you'll hear both the good sides and the bad sides."

Harry smiled. At least Cedric was honest about it. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

"You do that. Now, I've got friends waiting for me, so I got to go. Come talk to me at Hogwarts once in a while. Even if you end up in another house I won't mind giving you a tour if you want one. Not all houses have Prefects that are dedicated enough to their job to do that."

"Thank you," Harry said sincerely. "I'll probably take you up on that offer. See you later?"

"Sure thing," Cedric said with a wave as he left the compartment.

 _:That's a nice guy,:_ Manjushage remarked.

_Yeah. Yeah he is. He really lives up to what he said about Hufflepuffs._

_:Wonder how you get into houses,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari added.

 _Maybe a questionnaire or something, to see what kind of person you are?_ Harry suggested. Though he didn't really think that would be it. Somehow that just didn't sound… _magical_ enough. _Or maybe some kind of test?_

_:Could be…:_

Puzzling over the question his spirits had posed, Harry sought out a toilet and quickly changed into his school uniform. At some point while he was changing the train lurched into motion, almost making him topple over. He and his spirits shared grins. They were on their way!

Feeling more confident now he no longer looked like he got his clothes from the Salvation Army, he returned to his seat, only to find someone had joined him in the empty compartment. A boy and a girl were standing in the middle of the compartment with their trunks beside them, admiring Hyouden, who had claimed a seat close to the window as her perch. When Hyouden hooted to welcome him back the two turned, startled by his sudden appearance. One was a round-faced boy he believed he had seen in the crowd, while the other was a girl with bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth. Both were wearing plain black Hogwarts robes without house colors. Other first years then.

"Hey Hyouden," Harry greeted his owl as he gave the newcomers a curious look. "Been saving me a seat?"

Hyouden bobbed her head in confirmation. Harry laughed. "Thanks."

"Um, excuse me," the girl said. "Would you mind if we joined you? Most of the other compartments are full and it would be nicer to sit together than sit in an empty compartment, don't you think? This is Neville Longbottom and I'm Hermione Granger."

Harry blinked at the sudden barrage of words. "Um… I guess? You're welcome to sit here anyway. I'm Harry Potter."

"Goodness, are you really?" Hermione said, looking pleasantly surprised. "I know all about you of course. I got a few extra books for background reading and you're in 'Modern Magical History', 'The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts', and 'Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century'."

"I am?" Harry asked, startled. "I knew I was famous, but I didn't think there would be _books_ about me." He gave her a puzzled look. Encouraged by his snickering spirits, he added, "And how would you know all about me through that anyway? I only found out about the whole wizarding stuff a month ago, and as far as I know I didn't talk to any of the authors of those books about myself. So unless they spied on me – which would be very creepy – I doubt the books were all that informative."

Hermione had the decency to look embarrassed. "Ah, well, I guess I don't really know all about _you_ , but more about what happened when you got that scar. That's what the books focused on, so I don't think they spied. At least, they don't mention they spied. You think they would do that? That would be a terrible breach of privacy!"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. All I know is that a book would not be able to teach you all about me." _Particularly the ancient Shinigami part of me,_ he thought sardonically. In the back of his head, his spirits laughed.

Hermione nodded, a curious gleam entering her eyes. "You didn't know you were a wizard? Goodness, you would have been the last I expected that from! How come?"

"Let's first get your stuff out of the way, okay?" he said with a wave towards their luggage still standing in the middle of the compartment. "You've got the whole train ride to ask questions, as long as you answer mine as well. You read ahead a lot?"

Hermione nodded as she and Neville helped Harry wrangle their trunks into the same corner he had stashed his own. "Yes I did. Nobody in my family has magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course. I've learnt all our set books off by heart, I just hope it will be enough – I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me."

"You don't have to worry," Neville suddenly piped up. "There are a lot of people who come from muggle families and as far as I heard they have no trouble keeping up. In fact," he added gloomily, "You'll probably do better than me. My family is pure blood but the family thought I was a squib for ages. My great-uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off guard and force some magic out of me – he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned – but nothing happened until I was eight. Great-uncle Algie came round for tea and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by my ankles when my great-auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced – all the way down the garden and onto the road. They were all really pleased. Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got my letter. They thought I might not have enough magic to come, you see. Great-uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad." At this Neville opened a small wicker basket and showed them a large toad. It croaked. "His name is Trevor."

Hermione stared at Neville, aghast, completely disregarding Trevor. Even Harry had to admit that Neville had got it bad, and he only knew the Dursleys well enough to compare with. They might have locked him up and half-starved him, but at least they'd never tried to actually kill him. The stunts Neville's great-uncle pulled sounded like they could have seriously hurt him.

Apparently, Hermione shared Harry's opinion. "That's _terrible!_ " she shrieked.

Neville looked taken aback, before he looked sadly at his toad. "I know some people don't like toads but Trevor isn't bad," he mumbled, sounding so dejected Harry wouldn't have been surprised to see tears in the boys eyes.

"I don't think Hermione was talking about Trevor, Neville," Harry said comfortingly, patting the boy's shoulder. "I think she's more worried your great-uncle might have hurt you."

"Oh." Neville blushed, but quit looking so glum, so Harry counted it as a win. "Um, Hermione? You don't need to worry. Great-uncle Algie told me later he always had security measures in place so I wouldn't die or something. But I had to believe my life was in danger for my magic to jump in. That's how it works."

"But still! It must have been terrible for you! Did he even apologize?" she replied indignantly.

"He did," Neville nodded. "Said he was very sorry for scaring me." He looked at the worry in her face and reaffirmed shyly, "It's okay Hermione, everything is fine."

When Hermione didn't look like she was willing to let the topic go, Harry hastily interrupted her before she could speak. "Hermione, you were telling us about the spells you've tried. I read that casting a spell for the first time is the most difficult, because you aren't used to using your magic voluntarily yet. Does that mean you've found your wand spirit too?"

Hermione paused, anger on Neville's behalf replaced by plain curiosity. "My wand spirit? Do wands have spirits? Goodness, I didn't know, Mr Ollivander didn't say anything about something like that! That really is quite irresponsible of him. How did you find out?"

Neville looked curious too. "I don't think I ever heard of those. I'd have thought Gran would have mentioned them when she gave me my dad's wand. What are they? It does have to do with wands, right?"

Harry blinked, stunned, feeling his spirits' emotions match his own. "You don't know? But I thought that that would be the most important thing we would ever learn about at Hogwarts!" Inside, he was suddenly worried. He had expected to learn about wand spirits like Juushirou had once learned about Zanpakutou spirits, like how they were the core of their most important tools and were thus deeply connected to their potential for using magic. But if the others didn't know about them, did that mean that he had just made a mistake? He didn't want to stand out any more than he already did!

_Why on earth wouldn't they know? Their wands are living beings! Surely I'm not the only wizard to ever enter my Inner World?_

_:We don't know, Harry,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari said grimly. Manjushage was still silent with shock. _:But that does seem unlikely. Especially because Mr Ollivander was clearly aware that wands have a consciousness.:_

… _Maybe they'll teach it later?_ Harry suggested hesitantly. _How much do the Shinigami learn about their Zanpakutou in class?_

 _:Not a lot,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari grudgingly admitted. _:They are told to find their Inner World and the name of their Zanpakutou, but meditation classes aside, no one really teaches about them. All they learn about us is how to wield us in our sealed forms. Shikai training is entirely individual because every Shikai is different.:_

Harry relaxed a little. _So maybe we just don't have a book about it?_

_:Probably… But then again, why doesn't Neville know? Surely his family would have told him about it? All the families in Seireitei that had Shinigami members did.:_

_I don't know._

_:Harry,:_ Manjushage suddenly cut in. _:Maybe finding me is like finding your Zanpakutou's name. What happens if a Shinigami knows his Zanpakutou's name before even entering the Academy?:_

Harry froze, waiting for Sougyo no Kotowari to give the answer. He didn't know, but he had a feeling…

 _:They'd stand out,:_ the twins answered. _:Like,_ really _stand out. No one has ever known their Zanpakutou's name that soon.:_

Harry was horrified. _So I would be considered even more weird than I already am?!_

His spirits were quiet for a few moments. _:Probably,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari admitted.

 _:Harry,:_ Manjushage said slowly, as if it pained her. _:If you want, you can keep me secret. I know you hate standing out.:_

_But Manju-_

_:No. It's alright_ ,: she interrupted decisively _. :First find out whether wand spirits are known or not. You can always reveal me later.:_

 _Okay,_ Harry agreed, feeling guilty but at the same time grateful for Manjushage's understanding.

"Really now? Why?" Hermione asked in the meantime, oblivious to Harry's internal conversation. Harry only just managed to catch her question.

Harry hesitated, but then decided to tell them. At least part of it. They'd probably learn all about it later anyway. "You remember how Mr Ollivander told you that every wand chooses it's wizard, instead of the other way around?"

She nodded, but Neville shook his head. "I never went there," he said as explanation. "I got my father's wand."

Harry frowned, wondering what it meant if Neville's wand hadn't chosen him, but then dismissed it. He could contemplate that later. "Well, he did. Anyhow, that means that every wand has a spirit, because without being alive, a wand wouldn't be able to choose, right? He even said that wands could get jealous if you tried to get another while you were still using them, to the point that neither would work if you tried to force them. I think doing magic is easier once you get to know your wand spirit."

They thought that over. "Sounds fair," Hermione admitted. "There must be some form of intelligence. I suppose you could call it a spirit – a wand certainly isn't alive the conventional way. But if you only learned about magic a month ago, how do you know about wand spirits?" she inquired.

Harry paused. Now he had to choose what he'd tell them. Damn. He hadn't thought that far ahead yet.

 _:Go with a vague truth,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari advised.

"I asked about it," Harry said obediently, specifically not mentioning exactly _who_ he had asked. "I was curious after Mr Ollivander mentioned it."

"But you asked if I had met my wand spirit too," Hermione prodded shrewdly. "Does that mean you have met yours?"

 _Vague truth,_ Harry repeated to himself. But it was difficult to come up with something sufficient on such a short notice. In the end he settled for, "I heard mine a few times. Mostly when I was asleep though."

Which was somewhat true. He often meditated at night, and he had associated meditation with being asleep ever since he had first entered his Inner World. It had taken a long time and a thorough explanation from Sougyo no Kotowari before he had understood that there was a difference.

"Really?" Hermione asked, eyes glinting with fascination. Neville leaned forward with similar curiosity. "What does it sound like?"

"She sounds like a girl," Harry admitted honestly. "Like a little kid. But please don't tell anyone I've already heard mine."

"Why would you want to keep it secret? There wasn't even a mention of wand spirits in the books and you've already heard yours!" Hermione asked, apparently genuinely shocked at the idea of keeping such a thing under wraps.

"Well," Harry said uncomfortably. "You guys don't know anything about it, so clearly it isn't normal. And people are already weird enough about me. I don't want to give them another reason to stare."

"Oh," Hermione said, suddenly understanding. "Do you not like being famous?" She shrugged at Harry's and Neville's surprised looks. "My mum once talked about famous muggles. It is probably comparable. She said that she thought it to be horrible, especially for children, because everyone is always very nosy and has a lot of opinions, even about things that aren't their business. She said she wouldn't want to be famous for all the money in the world."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know if it's the same, but so far I haven't been liking the reactions. No offense," he said apologetically to Hermione, "But it's really weird when people just start talking as if they know me when I have no idea who they are. And a little creepy."

Hermione and Neville thought that one over. "I can imagine," Neville muttered. "People who knew my parents sometimes do that. I never know what to say."

Hermione nodded decisively. "Well then. Neville and I won't tell anyone about your spirit. Right Neville?"

Neville nodded. "I won't say anything," he promised emphatically.

"But can you tell us how you can hear it? I want to be able to hear my wand spirit too. Just imagine what it could tell about magic! It could offer a completely different perspective!"

Harry chuckled. "It's fairly simple. Just don't think it will be _easy._ But I get the best contact with my spirit when I'm meditating."

"You meditate?"

"Since I was a little kid," Harry confirmed.

"They say you can remember things more easily when you meditate," Hermione mused. "Is that true?"

"I don't know. Guess I've been meditating too long for that. Guess it depends what you focus on when meditating."

"And what should we focus on for our wand spirits?"

"What do you think?" Harry replied with a smile. "Your wand of course. How it feels and whether you can sense the magic within. It can take a lot of time, but it should get you closer to your wand spirit," Harry said confidently. At least, that was how it usually worked for Shinigami wanting to communicate with their Zanpakutou according to Sougyo no Kotowari, who had been very puzzled by his ability to reach them without them having a physical form. He could only hope it would work the same for witches and wizards.

 _:It probably will,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari said.

 _:It will likely get easier once they start using their wands,:_ one of them added.

"I'll try that," Hermione said decisively, looking as if she was gearing up to begin straight away. Neville nodded as well.

"You'll probably want some quieter surroundings when you start," Harry warned.

Hermione and Neville shared a look. "I'll try before I go to sleep," Neville decided quietly.

"I think I will too," Hermione agreed after a moment of contemplation. "Now then, we were talking about ourselves. You still haven't told why you didn't know about magic before, Harry."

Harry sighed and started to explain the Dursleys. He was halfway through his recount of the night Hagrid came to pick him up when they were interrupted by a redheaded boy opening their compartment door, whose face brightened when he saw them. His uniform lacked any house colors, which would make him a first year too. Which was probably why he was glad to see three other first years. "Hey. Sorry to barge in, but can I join you?" The boy asked awkwardly, obviously uncomfortable with being stared at. "My brothers went off to look at a giant spider, so I'm kinda alone."

The three shared a look. "Sure," Harry shrugged.

"Thanks," the boy said, taking a seat. "I'm Ron. Ron Weasley."

This sparked a small round of introductions. Ron's eyes went wide when Harry introduced himself.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded, already getting tired of the reaction.

"And have you really got – you know…" Ron pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry blinked, before realizing Ron was pointing at his scar. With a sigh he pulled back his fringe.

Ron stared. "So that's where You-Know-who-?"

Before Ron could finish his question, Hermione flared up. "Don't be so rude! Harry isn't a circus animal you can gawk at! As if Harry wants to talk about being attacked by a mass murderer!" Harry was just as taken aback as the others when she lit into a passionate diatribe about insensitivity, which quickly descended into a lecture about trauma and the immorality of disaster tourism.

 _:Now that's a scary girl,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari giggled, highly entertained by Hermione's tirade and Ron's increasingly panicked expression. Harry shushed them, but had to agree. He almost smiled, touched and baffled by her vehement defense of him despite having known each other for less than two hours. Clearly she had taken his words about being uncomfortable with his fame to heart.

"I'm sorry," a red-faced Ron finally managed to shout when she had to pause her rapid stream of words to take a breath. "I didn't mean anything by it!"

When Hermione opened her mouth to continue her scolding Harry quickly stepped in. "It's fine," he told her firmly. "I think Ron got the message. There's no need to keep going."

She gave him a wounded look. "But I was trying to help."

Harry didn't need Sougyo no Kotowari's warning to understand he was on slippery ice. Support Ron too much and Hermione would be hurt, but if he didn't stop Hermione Ron would leave the moment he could. He didn't want to be at odds with his classmates before the year even started, so he had to pick his words with care. "I know, and I'm glad you did. But once your point is made you shouldn't keep pushing. Otherwise it'll just end up being a shouting match. Ron has apologized already."

Hermione still looked a little miffed, but acquiesced easily enough. Ron just looked relieved it was over. "You sound like Mum when she's mad," the redhead muttered. He reddened again when she turned a sharp eye towards him. "It's not that bad though," he added hastily.

Peace restored, conversation slowly started again. This time the topic was magical families, which both Hermione and Harry found absolutely fascinating. Neville and Ron didn't mind telling them about it. Ron even seemed flattered by the attention, despite his moans about the burden of having five older brothers. They were particularly interested in Ron's brothers Charlie and Bill, who had finished Hogwarts already.

Despite the rocky beginning, it turned out to be a wonderful start of the year.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part turned out a lot longer than I expected. I had intended to sort out the Sorting this chapter, but things didn't go quite as I planned. First Cedric decided to make his first appearance years early, then Hermione and Neville suddenly turned up, and then they were talking about wand spirits before I even realized they were moving in that direction. It really is quite vexing when your characters suddenly decide to do stuff without consulting you. Anyhow, I hope you all liked the chapter and I hope to see you all back in 2016! Don't forget to tell me what you think!
> 
> HAPPY NEW YEAR!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in case some of you haven't realized it yet, but if you have not read the books you might have difficulties following this story. I only go into detail where my story deviates from canon.
> 
> Again, I have used dialog and descriptions from the book. I expect to keep doing that, so this will be the last time I will point out that those parts aren't mine.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

After they had moved away from the topic of Harry's fame, the train ride was mostly uneventful. Hyouden had alerted them the few times Trevor had tried to sneak away, much to Neville's grateful relief.

There had been some trouble when Draco Malfoy had dropped by looking for Harry Potter and had insulted everyone in the compartment in the process, but that had been quickly handled, especially after Scabbers had bitten Goyle.

 _:He was quite rude. But you could have been more diplomatic,:_ Manjushage muttered amused.

 _:What fun would that be?:_ Sougyo no Kotowari giggled back. None of Harry's spirits had appreciated Malfoy's snootily superior attitude.

 _It was his own fault for being such a git,_ Harry added, rising with the others when the train came to a halt. Involuntarily, his stomach lurched with nerves. From the looks on his new friends' faces, they were feeling apprehensive as well. Ron and Neville were pale, while Hermione was biting her lip.

With a deep breath Harry left their compartment. Outside, the dark was broken by a few brightly burning lamps that illuminated a tiny platform. The cold air that came rushing through the open doors did little to calm Harry as he shuffled along with the other students towards the exit. There was an odd energy in the air, similar to the energy at platform 9¾ but far, far stronger. Harry shivered and hid his hands in his sleeves, wishing he'd had the foresight to grab his cloak.

A lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, followed by Hagrid's cheerful calls. "Firs' years! Firs' years over 'ere! All right there, Harry?"

Harry managed a sickly smile and nodded at the giant man. He quickly explained his acquaintance with Hagrid to Hermione, Ron, and Neville as they followed Hagrid down a steep, narrow path. Harry and Ron were managing to stay on their feet, but Ron and he had to reach out to steady Neville and Hermione a few times when they threatened to slip and fall. It was so dark Harry was sure there were thick trees on either side of the path. When Neville almost tripped for the tenth time Harry wondered why there were no lights here. Surely the new students took the same route every year? How hard could it be for a couple of witches and wizards to add some lights?

Harry was distracted when Hagrid called over his shoulder, "Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec. Jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud, "Ooooh!" ahead of Harry's group. They hurried forward. Just as they passed the bend, the narrow path opened suddenly on to the edge of a great black lake. Perched on a high cliff on the other side of the lake, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. Hundreds of windows sparkled with light, mimicking the starry sky above. It was a sight straight out of a fairy tale.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. The four first years hurried to claim a boat for themselves.

"Everyone in?" Hagrid shouted, who had a boat to himself. "Right then – _forward!"_

The little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was smooth as glass. Harry could only stare. The maryoku in the air was steadily getting heavier as they neared the castle, which radiated the energy like a hot stove. It was amazing yet at the same time frightening. His spirits were similarly in awe of the castle and its aura.

 _:So here is where we'll stay for the upcoming years,:_ Manjushage distractedly. Harry could feel her longing and anticipation as they envisioned what living here would be like.

 _:Feels a bit like Seireitei,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari remarked nostalgically. _:Only less intense.:_

When they sailed through a curtain of ivy into a tunnel within the cliff face, Harry was nauseous with fear and anticipation, his spirits' excitement only amplifying his nerves. Within minutes they stood before the huge oak front door.

Stern-faced and straight-backed, the witch who greeted them looked not like someone Harry wanted to cross.

Harry listened intensely to Professor McGonagall's speech, but it did little to soothe his fears. He had entirely forgotten to follow Cedric's advice to ask other students about the houses, and he feared that would come to bite him when the Sorting Ceremony would start. He had no idea how they were supposed to be sorted or in which house he wanted to be. Morosely he imagined standing before the entire school looking like a fool.

Ron telling them what his brothers had told him didn't help in the slightest. Wrestling a troll? Harry didn't think they would be thrown that far into the deep end, but it succeeded in making everyone more nervous. Given what he had discovered so far about Fred and George Weasley, he guessed that had been their intention. Even his spirits whispered reassurances couldn't lift the leaden weight of Harry's nervous fear.

The short appearance of the castle's ghosts did little to distract him. Harry only felt a vague curiosity upon seeing the spectral gigai-like constructs the lingering souls moved around in. They were all Plusses, and seemed surprisingly normal for lingering souls. No obvious obsessions and quite friendly. Odd, but… not really something he could concern himself with right now.

And then Professor McGonagall was back and they were led into the Great Hall. The whole school was watching them and the last of Harry's colour leached out of his face.

_So many…_

Right now, Harry really wouldn't mind being a bit more like Juushirou. His past self had been able to face a crowd like this without batting an eyelid. He could really use some of that confidence at the moment.

 _:It's okay, Harry,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari soothed. _:It's only for a little while.:_

Unfortunately, that little while felt like an eternity. The Sorting Hat's song only made it worse. He barely managed a whispered 'good luck' to Hermione and Neville when they were called. A horrible thought had struck his mind and made itself at home.

What if he wasn't chosen? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train? What if the Hat would decide he couldn't be sorted because he held pieces of another person within him?

 _:How could you not be chosen? You have me!:_ Manjushage said indignantly.

 _:And if the Hat doesn't sort you because of our soul's past we'll teach him a lesson,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari added darkly. _:We won't allow him to snub our wielder.:_

Harry wanted to groan. Most of the time the twins behaved exactly what they looked like, but at times like these they made it abundantly clear why their physical forms would be twin swords. And Manjushage had picked up some habits from them. He couldn't remember the number of times his spirits had offered to do serious harm to his aunt and uncle.

Great, now he had another thing to worry about. He didn't think the people of Hogwarts would appreciate it if his spirits ended up hurting the Sorting Hat.

From the depths of his soul, his spirits smiled sweetly at him. They might as well have given him evil little smirks, for all the difference it made.

"Potter, Harry!"

_Bugger. Right at this moment too._

Harry stepped forward, too worried about the fate of the Sorting Hat to care about the flood of whispers that followed Professor McGonagall's call.

 _Nothing in my head that it can't see, huh?_ Harry thought with trepidation as the Sorting Hat was lowered over his eyes. _I wonder how that's going to work-_

 _:Well, well,:_ a voice Harry recognized as the Hat's said _inside his head_. _:Now this is interesting…:_

 _Are you in my Inner World?_ Harry asked suspiciously, pretty sure he hadn't imagined the phantom flutter of movement through the corridor in his mind that lead to his mindscape.

 _:Why, yes young man,:_ was the Hat's confused response. _:How come- Augh!:_

Harry vaguely heard a _thud_ , as if someone just got tackled and ended up face-first on the ground. In the background Manjushage's bell-like giggles could be heard.

_:Yay, yay, we have a guest! Let's play, let's play!:_

_:Play with us, Hat-chan!:_

Despite his worries Harry had to suppress an exasperated sigh. Trust his spirits to feign childish innocence. He wasn't sure whether he should be embarrassed or grateful for their interference. He wasn't happy to have a stranger sneak into his inner sanctum without so much as a by your leave, even if it was deemed necessary by school rules.

And then the Hat dared to be annoyed. Harry mentally scowled. Never mind. The Hat deserved a bit of slamming around.

 _:Rambunctious as those lions and brave enough to attack me. And now keeping me from getting a measure of your character! I_ need _that for my sorting,_ _:_ the Hat harrumphed as he audibly tried to free himself from Sougyo no Kotowari's clutches. _:Little brats._ _And such an unusual number too._ _I would be more impressed that you managed to awaken them already if they did not make my job this much more difficult,:_ the old artefact grouched.

Harry huffed in amusement when his spirits plain _radiated_ cheeky pride at that – which pretty much was the mental equivalent of stinking their tongues out at the Hat – and decided to refrain from pointing out that Sougyo no Kotowari were twice the Sorting Hat's age and the only wand spirit was Manjushage. It probably wouldn't help, and it wasn't as if it really mattered all that much in Harry's opinion.

 _:Why are you complaining? You don't have a place here, so you have no right to the knowledge you seek,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari replied innocently.

 _:What kind of spirits would we be if we allowed you?:_ Manjushage added sweetly.

 _:Far less troublesome spirits, that's for sure,:_ the Sorting Hat grumbled. _:_ _You are lucky I am aware that wand spirits are indicative to their wizard's personality, otherwise I would not be able to sort your master. And_ then _where would you be?_ _:_

Harry felt his three spirits share a look and shrug. He himself rather felt like facepalming. _You said that you could guess my personality. Can you sort me now please? It has been a while already…_

The Hat huffed and bluntly told them his choice, sarcasm lacing his voice as if he expected them to object. Apparently the Hat couldn't leave until his spirits let him go. Harry had the feeling that if he had been in his Inner World right now he would have seen the Sorting Hat give his spirits an unfriendly glare. Not that his spirits cared. In their eyes their actions were completely justified.

Luckily, none of them had any problems with the Hat's decision. Sougyo no Kotowari and Manjushage liked the Gryffindor colours and they approved of getting into the house of the brave. Harry wasn't so sure Gryffindor suited him, but whatever. His spirits were convinced it did. Though the twins teasingly confessed they would have liked it better if the lion had been two fishes instead when they kicked the Hat out.

Harry couldn't contain a laugh at the Sorting Hat's sputtering indignation, even as the old artefact announced his placement to the rest of the school. Luckily, at that moment the Sorting Hat was removed from his head, allowing him to see his new House mates reactions. At least he could blame the red-headed twins who had to be Ron's brothers for laughing if anyone asked. Honestly, there was such a thing as being _too_ enthusiastic.

As he sat down at the Gryffindor table Harry briefly wondered where he would have been placed if his spirits had not interfered. He loved them to death, but sometimes their antics were a bit much. He might not have liked the intrusion on his privacy but he was sure the Sorting Hat wouldn't have harmed him. The Hat had been doing this job for centuries after all.

Harry thought he would have liked the Hufflepuff house as well, especially because, from what he had heard so far, it seemed the most peaceful of the houses. Now he was no longer quaking with nerves he liked to think he was loyal and hardworking enough for it.

He sighed. Oh well. No use crying over spilled milk. He didn't mind Gryffindor either and he appreciated getting into the same house as Neville and Hermione. With any luck Ron would join them as well.

He hoped their friendly acquaintance would continue down the road it had started on and grow into true friendship.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

As Harry settled for the night later that evening, he couldn't suppress a content sigh. The entire day had been absolutely wonderful. A new home, a new life, people who might become friends – yes, today had been good.

He still wondered why his scar had hurt during dinner, but neither Sougyo no Kotowari nor Manjushage had been able to tell him. As always, speculations were running wild, though this time the arguments lacked the usual fire. Today's rollercoaster of emotions had exhausted them all and tomorrow promised to be just as exciting. Magic classes! Harry already knew that Manjushage's excitement would make it very difficult to sleep no matter how tired he was. Which would be troublesome, given what they had seen of the complexity of the castle. Harry was definitely going to take Cedric up on his offer.

Curling up beneath the covers, Harry nuzzled his unbelievably comfortable pillow, determined to catch some sleep despite his spirits' emotions spilling over to him.

Tomorrow was going to be great.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

_A great wall of glinting scales, their purplish grey shade reminding him of a moor in bloom and storm clouds just before the thunder. A mane like fine strands of pristine snow flowing down the elegant arch of an enormous, serpentine neck, disappearing behind feathered, black-tipped wings so large they could obscure the entirety of Hogwarts' castle. Flints of pale, crystalline orange and more piercing than the finest blade, appraising him with an ancient regard that made him feel very small, the weight of that gaze like a physical pressure on his shoulders._

_Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, a deep voice that reverberated in his bones declared, "Welcome, Young One."_

Harry blinked awake, morning light falling through a gap between the curtains surrounding his bed. _Odd dream,_ he thought as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

 _:Not sure it was just a dream,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari murmured thoughtfully.

Harry started. _Not? But that didn't look like one of Juushirou's memories._

He felt the twins shrug. One of them answered Harry's unspoken question. _:It wasn't. But I suppose, that if a magical artefact like the Sorting Hat can have a spirit-:_

 _:-other magical constructs can have a spirit too,:_ the other finished.

_Magical construct? I don't think we met another magical construct besides the Hat._

Sougyo no Kotowari grinned. _:No?:_

Harry frowned. _Not that I can think of…_

Manjushage giggled. Clearly she was fully aware of what his Zanpakutou spirits were talking about. _:Think!:_

It was too early for thinking. Harry frowned and tried anyway. To no avail. And no matter what Harry tried, his spirits would not reveal which construct they were talking about. Luckily, he ended up distracted by Neville and Ron before he could become frustrated.

Good thing too. The castle of Hogwarts was such a complex maze it took every bit of frustration they could spare for itself. Shifting staircases, hidden passages, doors that pretended to be something else, walls that pretended to be doors – it was crazy. The portraits weren't helping either. Not only were the people in the paintings moving around, some of them were simply not interested in helping lost students, some preferred to play riddles and wouldn't give a straight answer, quite a few were asleep or absent, and of the small minority who were willing to help only some were clearheaded enough to be actually _helpful_.

They considered it an accomplishment that they actually managed to arrive in time for breakfast.

Harry sat down with a sigh, already tired. And the day hadn't even started yet. Bloody magic castle.

His spirits giggled. Something in that giggle caught Harry's attention. It was a bit too little _ha-ha-poor-you_ and a bit too much _we-know-something-you-don't-nyah-nyah-nyah._

Now where did that come from? Probably had to do with that construct stuff they had been talking about-

Harry's jaw dropped. Staring at nothing in particular and ignoring the strange looks he was getting from his new friends, he shouted at his spirits, _You can't be serious!_

_:Why ever not?:_

_Because- Because it's_ crazy _! Hogwarts can't have a spirit!_

_:Why not?:_

Harry dropped his face in his hands, groaning.

"You alrigh' ma'e?" Ron asked around a mouthful of sausage.

Harry waved him off with a distracted reassurance that he was fine, thank you.

 _Hogwarts has a spirit._ Hogwarts _has a_ spirit. _A bloody big castle has a_ dragon spirit.

 _:I don't see why you're so surprised,:_ Manjushage sniffed. _:The Sorting Hat can hardly be more advanced than an ancient magical castle with so many traps and tricks it took you almost an hour to get downstairs.:_

Well okay, he supposed she had a point. But still. Huge castle dragon spirit. Argh. Magical schools were _crazy._

His spirits, utterly unsympathetic brats that they were, just laughed at him.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

When the day finally ended Harry was ready to scream at something. Because the other Gryffindors probably wouldn't appreciate hearing him rant, he quickly returned to his dormitory after the evening meal, claiming he wanted to make an early night out of it.

He couldn't start meditating soon enough.

Gods, he knew that he was famous, but did people _have_ to make such an issue out of it? All the staring and whispers and people who had followed him around all day had worn his nerves thin. It was worse than people muttering behind his back after one of Aunt Petunia's more vicious rumour-mongering, because this was _the entire school doing it._ Even most of the professors had reacted to his presence.

Honestly, didn't they have better things to do?

He sighed when his spirits' arms wrapped around him in welcome.

"Don't worry so much, Harry," Sougyo no Kotowari told him soothingly. "Things will calm down once the newness has worn off."

"I hope so," Harry said. "Everyone is acting so weird that I don't even want to ask for directions. What if they all want to shake my hand like in the Leaky Cauldron?"

"That would be troublesome, yes," Manjushage agreed. "Though fortunately no one has worked up the nerves to do that so far. I'm more concerned about the fact that none of the professors has said anything about wand spirits yet. One would think that that would have priority over getting started on the details of their respective subjects. Honestly, it is as if they don't even know about us!"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I was wondering about that too." He grinned. "I think Hermione was prodding people about it though. And I believe she was muttering something about the library."

Manjushage smiled. "She certainly is determined. We lucked out with her and your other friends, I think. They've been very supportive. And Cedric was very helpful today."

"Yeah, we did," Harry agreed, unable to contain a happy smile. "They're good people."

He always had Sougyo no Kotowari and Manjushage, but it was nice to have friends outside his own mind as well. Hermione, Ron, and Neville had been more than willing to act as a shield against the masses. Hermione had even gone so far to loudly complain about how rude everyone was, which had made quite a number of students turn away with suspiciously red ears. It had been brilliant.

And Cedric had been as kind as he had been yesterday, more than willing to help them find their way to their classes. Harry was very glad to have met him. The older boy was a wellspring of information, and not nearly as likely to lead them wrong as Ron's older brothers. Plus he was very down to earth. When Harry had approached Cedric after lunch all the Hufflepuff had said about the Harry Potter business was, "Now I understand why you didn't tell me your surname. Mine's Diggory, by the way." It had been a breath of fresh air after the ridiculous reactions of the other students.

Though Cedric's group of friends had been less placid about being approached by Harry. Fortunately they had listened when Cedric had told them to go ahead while he guided Harry and his friends to their next class.

He had even given them advice on how to navigate the hallways. Apparently, the best way was to either ask the ghosts or the portraits, though you had to be careful you picked the right ones. Cedric had told them to look for house colours in the paintings if they wanted to be sure the portraits answered honestly and wouldn't be annoyed when interrupted with whatever they were doing. Harry thought it a bit odd, but from what Cedric had been able to tell while guiding them, most people who had living portraits of themselves made honoured their old house that way. At least when they hung in Hogwarts. They had to look for black and yellow – yellow, not gold, black and gold were a popular combination for other groups as well – for Hufflepuffs, and gold and red for Gryffindors. Supposedly, people from those houses were more likely to be willing to help lost students find their way quickly. Ravenclaws had bronze and blue, but might not appreciate being disturbed. The Slytherins – silver and green – could be helpful but were rarely willing to give a quick, straight answer.

Harry thought it was unnecessarily complicated and new students should just be provided with a map. Cedric had laughingly pointed out that those had to be very good maps then, to keep up with Hogwarts' ever-changing layout. He was probably right with that.

"Come, Harry. We've got tea ready," Manjushage said invitingly, straightening her long, night-blue haori before holding out a hand. It was decorated with red spider lilies in vivid colours. She had added it to her outfit after she had received her name. The flowers that were her namesakes also decorated her hair. It was curious, but Manjushage's appearance had changed far more since he had gotten her than Sougyo no Kotowari's. The twins had only grown their hair out so their ponytails now reached between their shoulder blades.

So far Harry hadn't asked them about this discrepancy yet. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the reason. He had a feeling he knew already anyway. Sougyo no Kotowari used to be Juushirou's after all.

So instead of asking his spirits uncomfortable questions, Harry smiled and allowed them to drag him into their usual sitting room, where they had already set out a tea set and a game. Knowing how tired Harry was, it was a board game this time. Harry was glad for it. As much as he loved active games like hide-and-seek and tag, right now he just didn't have the energy.

"So what are we playing this time?"

The twins grinned. "Ludo!"

Harry raised a brow. Oh, now that would be fun. For two identical spirits who were halves of one whole, Sougyo no Kotowari could compete among themselves as if it was going out of style. And Manjushage, not one to be outdone by the older spirits, wasn't far behind them.

He grinned. "Sounds good."

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Sougyo no Kotowari's prediction came true near the end of the week. Apparently a couple of days were enough for the school's population to get used to having a celebrity among them. There were still whispers and blatant stares, but at least people quit focusing so much on him. Harry couldn't have been more relieved.

Unfortunately, that feeling didn't last. It was Friday and they'd just had their Double Potions lesson with Professor Snape.

Harry's face was still red from angry humiliation. Without Juushirou's influence he probably wouldn't have realized it so keenly, but for some reason professor Snape _hated_ him; enough to actively undermine Harry's standing in the class by singling him out and making Harry look stupid and lazy. And he didn't know why!

_:Our offer still stands.:_

Harry huffed, some anger finally bleeding off. Sougyo no Kotowari's offer _was_ very tempting. He didn't remember exactly what their abilities were – he suspected the twins had deliberately hidden those memories from him until the day he decided to take up their blades – but he knew that Snape wouldn't survive whatever they would unleash as revenge for his insults and snubs. Or he would, and then he would _really_ have a reason to hate Harry.

 _Better not. It would cause more trouble than it would solve,_ Harry joked back. And someone like Snape wasn't worth revealing his Zanpakutou for. Especially because Hermione seemed ready to march to McGonagall's office to complain.

"- I don't understand why he teaches such an important course. None of the other professors singled Harry out like that! I'm sure that there were plenty among us who didn't know the answers either!"

"Sure thing," Ron agreed, Neville nodding along with him. "I wouldn't have done any better. But that's Snape for you. My brothers all agree that he's a git. Even Percy admits that Snape can be 'unpleasant to work with', as he puts it, and Percy's not the kind to say something like that about a professor."

"Exactly! High standards are well and good, but we're just starting out! Surely a more patient and fair professor would be better for something as volatile as potions? I read that accidents can be quite nasty even with simple brews!"

To their surprise, the answer came from Neville. "Well, that's true," the usually shy boy said thoughtfully, "But I don't believe there are all that many candidates in the first place. I heard that You-Know-Who went after a lot of them during the war, so Potion Masters are rare and most work somewhere else. St Mungo's got quite a few, and there are several potion shops who employ a number of different Potion Masters as well. I guess compared to the other options, most find teaching not very interesting. Or lucrative."

Ron snorted. "And Snape does?"

The three boys laughed at that. Hermione just looked worried.

"Cheer up," Harry told her. "At least we have a visit to Hagrid to look forward to. You'll like Hagrid. He's nice."

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

It was finally weekend and Harry was observing Ron's older twin brothers. He didn't know what they were doing, but it involved bursts of colourful sparks and a lot of laughter. It looked interesting.

Something went _boom_ and a thin cloud of red smoke washed over the common room, much to their older brother's ire. Unfortunately for Percy, Fred and George weren't in the least bit fazed by his blistering lecture, instead shooting back witty replies that made most of the spectators laugh. Harry smiled. With their mischievous nature the Weasley twins reminded him of the twins who lived within his soul.

_:But we're better, naturally.:_

Harry snickered. _Well, yes. But you've got an unfair head start._

 _:There's nothing unfair about being older,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari sniffed superiorly.

Harry shook his head. They would probably never agree on that. Instead he chose to focus on something else.

_I still think it's a strange coincidence._

He was still puzzling about what the mysterious package from Gringotts could have been. Hagrid hadn't wanted to say anything about it, but surely someone wouldn't have tried to steal it if it wasn't valuable? And to think that someone had tried to steal it mere hours after Hagrid had taken it. Hell, there was even a chance it hadn't been more than an hour before the would-be thief had made its attempt. The thief could have been mere minutes behind them!

Harry wasn't sure whether that was exciting or scary.

_:Both. Always both.:_

Heh. Yeah. He blamed Juushirou for that. Harry might avoid his previous life's memories like the plague, but somewhere in the back of his head was a little voice telling him it could be far worse. After all, it wasn't as if the thief had been after _him._ Dumbledore had just used him as a cover so Hagrid could pick up the package without people suspecting something.

Harry knew his friends were thinking about the mystery as well. Hermione and Neville probably didn't find it anything but mildly interesting, preferring to focus on finding their homework, but Ron was definitely fantasizing about a grand adventure where they would have to find and save the package from the thief, even though Ron knew how unlikely it was that it would ever happen.

Not that it mattered. Clearly he was having fun with it, so Harry saw no problem with letting his friend's imagination run wild.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Harry wished that Ron was still fantasizing about a grand adventure involving thieves and mysterious packages. The stories he came up with for that were better than the tall tales he came up with as their first flying lesson neared. His endless talking about dangerous aerial pursuits and daredevil stunts was making Neville and Hermione very nervous. And Harry wasn't all that confident either. He didn't want to make a fool of himself in front of Malfoy.

Manjushage didn't really care about his nerves. She was just excited to figure out how she could help Harry with flying. She had already discovered that in the classes where he wielded her she could work together with him, making it easier to cast whatever spell they were practicing. And even when she wasn't actively supporting his magic she still instinctively understood how the magic he attempted to perform was supposed to work, allowing her to grasp the nature of the spells on a far more fundamental level than Harry ever could. Even potions, which didn't _seem_ to require magic, came more easily with her help, as she could sense how the magic of the potion shifted and changed with each added ingredient.

Not that she could do more than support him yet, given she was still learning and figuring things out, but so far the results looked promising. Who knew what she would be capable of in a few years?

He hadn't told his friends yet how deeply Manjushage influenced his magic, but his friends weren't dim. They had gotten a good enough idea from what he _had_ told them and simply from watching him. It was undeniable that his practical results in class were well above average even though he wasn't good at theory. It had convinced Neville and Hermione that they had to find their wand spirits as quickly as possible. Hermione because she couldn't stand the idea of not achieving something so important as a proper bond with her wand spirit, and Neville because he seemed to believe he would do a lot better in class if he found his own wand spirit, which was probably true. Even Ron, who wasn't really interested in contacting his spirit, had grudgingly started meditating as well.

So far they hadn't had much luck, but none of them was willing to give up on gaining such an advantage. Harry left them to it and read his books whenever the others were meditating. Or played chess with Ron, whenever Ron decided he didn't feel like joining the other two. Ron was quite lazy when it came to work.

But apparently, Ron's laziness didn't extent to flying. In fact, he was very enthusiastic about it, which was why he was the only cheerful one among their group when they arrived at the location for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawn towards a smooth lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance. Harry had to say he was glad the weather was good. The wind wasn't very strong so that was one handicap they would not have to deal with.

Everything went quite well until they were about to start flying for real. Neville, nervous and jumpy and afraid of failure, pushed off hard before Madam Hooch even whistled. In his fear the shy boy lost control of his broom, shot up into the air, and fell, breaking his wrist.

On its own that would have been unpleasant enough – Neville was their friend, so naturally they hated seeing him hurt – but then Malfoy had to be a bullying git about it.

Briefly Harry wondered if that was why the blond boy was Snape's favourite. They were both bullies.

Luckily, getting Neville's remembrall back turned out to be easier than Harry had thought.

Flying was a breeze. Flying was _amazing._ Manjushage didn't even need to help him with it! All she did was feed a bit more of his magic into the broom to give him that extra burst of speed he needed to reach the fragile glass ball before it could meet its end on the hard ground.

Honestly. _Why_  had he been worried about learning to fly? It was _fantastic!_

His sense of victory wasn't long lived, because Professor McGonagall had seen him and she was absolutely furious.

 _:Not entirely unwarranted,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari remarked as Harry followed Professor McGonagall's angry strides towards the castle. _:She couldn't know that flying comes as easy to you as breathing.:_

His Zanpakutou spirits' comment did little to soothe the morose numbness that had overtaken him. he was in _so_ much trouble now. Surely he was going to get expelled. Be forced to pack his bags and leave.

_:Don't be silly. It's not as if anyone got hurt. You'll probably get detention or something.:_

Harry perked up a little. _You think?_ He asked hopefully.

His spirits sent him a wave of reassurance. _:Of course,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari replied. _:This is a school. Any decent teacher knows that kids do idiotic stuff, and they were teaching you how to_ fly. _It was a given that_ someone _would end up doing something stupid on a broom. We can imagine far worse than what you did.:_

 _You make me sound like an moron,_ Harry complained.

_:Harry, if you hadn't been a natural you would have gone the same way as Neville and eaten dirt. Surely you agree that it wasn't the smartest thing to do? Imagine how hard Malfoy would have laughed if that had happened!:_

… _Maybe?_ _But his face was priceless when I didn't. And I got Neville's thing back!_

 _:True. But that doesn't change you risked your neck to do so. And it's just a simple glass ball with coloured smoke. I think Neville would have forgiven you if you had failed,:_ Manjushage shot back.

Harry sulked. Couldn't they just be happy that he was good at flying?

_:Sure. After you admit that the danger you placed yourself in is disproportionate to the value of the item you saved.:_

_I wouldn't have made that dive if I hadn't been able to control the broom!_

_:Good. Otherwise we_ really _would have called you an idiot. So now you understand that..._ _:_ A clap of hands, ridiculously cheerful after the lecture they'd just given him. _:Good job on not crashing into the ground on your first flight!:_ his spirits chorused happily.

Harry grumbled a few choice swearwords under his breath.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Of course that wasn't the end of it. Though the end turned out quite a bit different than what he had expected. Seeker? _Him?_ And here he and his friends had thought McGonagall didn't favour the Gryffindors. This was almost on a par with Snape's level of blatant favouritism, though at least this was a one-time occasion.

Harry wasn't complaining. It was a thousand times better than being expelled or getting detention.

Unless you counted the mandatory quidditch training as 'detention'. Hermione, for one, didn't. She had objected against him getting 'rewarded' for disobeying a teacher, even if he had done it to help Neville. Fortunately, she hadn't been too loud about it because it had been Professor McGonagall's decision. Harry counted that as a win.

Instead she was a lot louder in expressing her displeasure regarding him accepting Malfoy's challenge, despite his reasoning that Malfoy deserved to be knocked off his high horse. She even agreed, but argued that they shouldn't break school rules to do it.

That didn't stop Ron and him from going. For some reason, it also didn't stop her and Neville from following them.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Half an hour later Harry wished Hermione had succeeded in talking them around.

He had often wondered what could possibly be located at the third corridor that would warrant a public warning of 'a very painful death'.

Now he knew. And wished he had never found out.

It was a dog. A huge, monstrous, vicious-looking, _three-headed_ dog.

In a _school._

 _:No worse than a Hollow,:_ was Sougyo no Kotowari's grim judgment during the several long heartbeats it took the students to realize they were staring their potential deaths in the eye, _:But given that none of you are Shinigami, running would be wise.:_

They did. Boy, did they ever.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

 _:Sooo… What did we learn today?:_ Sougyo no Kotowari sing-songed, Manjushage's displeasure like a dark, sullen shadow behind the cheerful question.

Harry wasn't fooled by the childish act. But two – in this case four – could play that game.

 _Dumbledore is insane for putting a dog like that behind a door a first year can unlock?_ he suggested innocently.

 _:That's quite a good point,:_ Manjushage agreed darkly. _:What_ was _that man thinking?:_

Sougyo no Kotowari radiated amusement. _:Not much, probably. At least not about the bottomless curiosity of students. But that wasn't_ our _point.:_

 _Malfoy's an ass?_ Harry offered.

_:We already knew that. Quit stalling.:_

Harry sighed. _I shouldn't have let Malfoy provoke me,_ he replied petulantly.

His spirits grinned at him, giving him a mental pat on the head. _:Good boy,:_ they praised.

_I don't want to hear that from a bunch of kids!_

His spirits just laughed at him. Gods, why was he happy to have them again?

_:Aww, don't be gloomy. Look on the bright side! At least we now have an idea where Hagrid's package went.:_

Despite himself Harry felt a smile pull at his lips. That was true.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

As it turned out, the week hadn't been nerve wracking enough yet. On Friday evening Hermione approached him and at the very first glance Harry decided he didn't like the look on her face.

"What is it?" he asked warily.

His bushy-haired friend fidgeted. "Well… you know how I've been researching wand spirits."

Harry nodded slowly.

Hermione shifted under his gaze. "Well, I asked the professors about them, but no one knew _anything._ And I can't find anything in the books either except some vague references to legends and myths. It is really quite vexing. And then Professor McGonagall suggested I ask Mr Ollivander because wand lore is a very complex and obscure branch of magic, which no one here really studies. Apparently getting as knowledgeable as Mr Ollivander would take a lifetime because it's so difficult, which is absolutely fascinating-"

"That's nice, Hermione," Harry interrupted. "But what does that have to do with me?"

"Well… I wrote Mr Ollivander, and I may have mentioned your name when I asked him – not that I mentioned you've met yours already! I kept my promise, don't worry," she reassured hastily as Harry gave her a horrified look. "But I did say you were the one who told me about them and now… Well, he asked very politely if I could convince you to get in contact with him. I think he wants to meet you. Again."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I've had a lot of people asking me 'please not Gryffindor'. I'm very sorry to disappoint everyone who hoped I would pick a different house, but Harry isn't so different from canon that there were that many options. Plus, well, the Sorting Hat didn't even get to take a peek at Harry's mind. And when he has to make a decision based on three spirits who he thinks are newly born and willing to attack an ancient being like him despite that? Gryffindor kinda became mandatory.
> 
> Please let me know what you thought!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr Ollivander comes to talk. It is... interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely happy about this chapter. The situation unfortunately touched upon a lot character flaws, and let me tell you, they're _tricky _. I hope I managed to get them right and stay on the level of the books (and wow, reading back, I was a bit surprised how naïve and self-righteous they all were. I did not remember it to be that bad, but then again, it has been a while since I last studied book 1; if anything sounds like bashing here, I apologize in advance because that is not my intention).__
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> _But enough spoilers. Please enjoy._  
>  _

 

Harry sighed loudly, head resting on his palm and the fingers of his other hand drumming nervously on the table as he waited for the appointed time. Hermione shot him another guilty look. She was as fidgety as he, if for entirely different reasons. Bloody curiosity. Harry was still not happy that Hermione's quest for knowledge had dragged him down with it. Because he had worried about meeting Mr Ollivander he hadn't been able to enjoy his new broom as much as he would have liked back when he had first flown on it, even though it hadn't diminished his performance during his first quidditch training, nor during his first training with his team.

Under different circumstances he would have been giddy with joy and nerves after his team's conviction that he would win them the Cup. Now though, he could only worry about the rapidly approaching meeting. Homework wasn't even close to being a sufficient distraction.

Within an hour they would meet Mr Ollivander again. He wasn't looking forward to it. Harry hadn't known, but apparently it was possible to have meetings with someone from outside of school if it was important for your schooling and you got it authorized by the Headmaster or his Deputy.

Thank Merlin Hermione had managed to get Professor McGonagall's approval without involving him. From what he had understood from what she had told him afterwards, she had managed to convince McGonagall that she herself had started her research project because proper knowledge of wands highly important. Apparently Professor McGonagall hadn't been able to refuse after Hermione had proceeded by pointing out that almost all their classes involved the use of wands. Especially because the Professor had suggested asking Mr Ollivander in the first place. It was her own fault that she hadn't expected Hermione to take her up on it.

Hermione was brilliant. Harry just wished she had been brilliant enough not to get Mr Ollivander so interested that they couldn't postpone the meeting till next summer or something. Or, even better, _never._

Worse, despite Hermione's reassurances that she hadn't told the wandmaker about his spirit, Mr Ollivander was interested in him. _Too_ interested. His urgent wish to know was shining through in his letters to Hermione and his insistence to have this meeting. Harry was sure the man had figured it out already.

It made Harry uncomfortable. Mr Ollivander had been creepy enough back when Harry had gotten Manjushage, and the way the man had talked about Voldemort had been disturbing. And now the strange man wasn't just interested because he was a tricky customer, but because he had already formed a bond with his spirit. It wasn't just the short-lived interest of a minor challenge, no, it was the kind of professional interest that might _keep_ him interested for _years._

Maybe it was Juushirou's influence bleeding through, but the mere idea of someone prodding at something so personal made him want to hide in an unused corner of the castle with Manjushage and stay there until Mr Ollivander had given up on seeing them.

No Shinigami would ever divulge information about their spirit to a stranger. Would not even allow someone to _touch_ them if they did not trust that person to treat their physical forms with the care and respect they deserved. Manjushage wasn't a Zanpakutou spirit, and Mr Ollivander was her _creator,_ but the mere thought that that might be expected of him still made Harry's skin crawl.

 _:Then don't give him anything,:_ twin voices suggested.

 _Wasn't planning to,_ Harry told his Zanpakutou spirits.

But just because he didn't plan to answer any questions didn't mean that he liked the idea of questions in the first place.

_:Hurt him?:_

Harry sighed. _That's not the kind of solution I want. You know that, Sougyo._

A mental shrug. _:You could always change your mind,:_ was the overly innocent reply.

Harry snorted. _Could you lay it on any thicker?_

_:Is that a challenge?:_

Despite his worry, Harry had to suppress a laugh.

 _Thanks, Sougyo,_ he thought affectionately. A bit of humour had loosened the knot in his stomach a little.

And just in time too. Hermione looked at the clock and dragged him upright, her worried expression replaced with an excited grin. Normally he didn't mind, but today her enthusiasm was annoying. It was as if she had forgotten that he _did not want_ Mr Ollivander to know about Manjushage.

 _:She's a child, Harry. Children are always egocentric. Empathy is something that is learned over time. Right now she probably_ isn't _thinking about that. She's just too curious,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari said soothingly, though their voices held an edge of annoyance too. _:Try to ignore it,:_ they advised.

Harry snorted at the none-too-subtle dig against children in general, but agreed to try. Hermione was a good friend, and, the mess with Mr Ollivander aside, she usually shielded him from others since she knew personal attention from strangers bothered him. It was just a pity that she didn't act that way now. He would have gladly dealt with the stares and whispers of the rest of the school if it would allow him to avoid Mr Ollivander.

Manjushage was silent. She too was concerned about what Mr Ollivander's wanted. The man might have been her creator, but she had never been in contact with him. Never been interested in contacting him either, since he was already taken. So when it came to Mr Ollivander, she was as clueless and wary as Harry.

Neither of them enjoyed the uncertainty. It made them peevish.

Neville and Ron joined Harry and Hermione as they left the common room. Both looked curious about the old wandmaker they had never met. Harry supposed he couldn't blame them.

As they walked down the stairs towards the sitting room where they would meet Mr Ollivander, Harry took advantage of the solitude to remind his friends to keep quiet about his progress with his spirits. If possible, he wanted Mr Ollivander to think he had made a wrong assumption about how far Harry was.

"Please don't say anything about the fact that I've already heard mine," he requested once he was sure no one was nearby.

Ron and Neville agreed easily, but Hermione frowned at him. "But Harry, maybe he can help you improve further!" she protested. "Don't you want to know more about your spirit?"

"I'll figure it out on my own," Harry muttered. Louder, he continued, "I don't want to stand out, remember? And getting into contact with Mr Ollivander when there's nothing wrong with my wand will definitely make me stand out."

"But isn't that worth it if it helps you get closer?" Hermione asked sincerely.

"No," Harry said crossly.

Hermione huffed and turned to continue down towards the designated meeting area. "I think you're just being difficult, but fine, I won't say anything. He seemed to know already anyway."

"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" Harry muttered under his breath. Fortunately or unfortunately, none of his friends heard.

His mood turned progressively darker the closer they came to the meeting. Harry kinda wished he could just turn around and leave, but since Mr Ollivander had asked for him _specifically_ that was not an option. Plus Hermione would probably scold him for it. She was good at that.

The very first part of the meeting went well enough. They all shook hands before taking place on the comfortable couches of the small meeting room, and Mr Ollivander weirded Ron and Neville out in short order by knowing their names before they even introduced themselves. Great start. Professor McGonagall was there for a short moment to ensure that everyone was present before she left, allowing them their privacy.

Harry was glad for that small mercy. At least without Professor McGonagall present, information on his wand spirit was less likely come back to the teachers. Given that almost none of them had been able to ignore his fame at the beginning, he didn't want to give them any more cause to pay him extra attention. It helped that the room had no portraits either, only a painting of a young playful cat.

 _:It probably is there to call a professor in case something goes wrong,:_ Manjushage speculated absently, as if trying to distract herself. Whether it was out of worry or because she was nervous to meet her creator Harry didn't know, but he could definitely understand the sentiment.

Once the pleasantries were over Hermione took the lead, so none of the boys had to say anything. Harry tried to fade into the background as much as possible.

She bit her lip before straightening resolutely. "I hope I'm not being presumptuous, but I'd like to know about the wand spirits, Mr Ollivander. I have told you in my letters that I have been looking, but I can't find _anything_ on it. Shouldn't it be _important?_ I find it disturbing that no one ever even told me that wands have spirits. I had to hear it from Harry." At that, Harry gave her a hard glare. Hermione forged on, completely ignoring it. "I don't understand why you never told me they were _alive_. I would expect that to be quite important."

"I told you they can think and choose for themselves," Mr Ollivander stated, observing her critically, as if she was an experiment that was showing interesting results. "Why on earth would you think they are _not_? I would say that would be the most logical conclusion there is. You have told me you desire to meet yours, and the very first step to that is accepting your wand as an entity with wants and needs of its own. If you do not think your wand is alive, how do you ever expect to be able to work together?"

Hermione looked as if she'd accidentally swallowed live newts. Despite his irritation, Harry felt for her. If it hadn't been for his relationship with Sougyo no Kotowari he might have overlooked Mr Ollivander's words in his excitement too. Then again, for Mr Ollivander it was clearly utterly obvious, so he could understand why the man hadn't been clearer.

"But on the topic of Mr Potter's knowledge on wands…," Mr Ollivander said before Hermione could recover, turning to regard Harry with shrewd eyes. Harry stiffened under his moon-pale gaze.

"Mr Potter, may I see your wand?"

Part of Harry wanted to jump up yell _no way._ He tried to stay calm and try to figure out a polite way to refuse. But apparently he was quiet a bit too long, because Hermione kicked his ankle. He glared at her. He caught Ron rolling his eyes and making _get on with it_ gestures. Only Neville seemed hesitant to comment on Harry's actions.

It was irritating that out of his three friends, only one actually willing to take his discomfort serious.

_:It's okay, Harry. I doubt he'll harm me.:_

Harry wanted to point out how averse Manjushage sounded to the idea of being handled by someone else, but his silence had already lasted too long. Very reluctantly Harry rose from his chair and handed his wand over.

She had never looked as brittle as she did now, in the hands of someone who wasn't _him._

Mr Ollivander was watching him sharply for a moment after he accepted Harry's wand. Then is unsettling eyes left him to inspect Manjushage's physical form. Harry had to dig his nails into the palms of his hands till they almost bled to suppress the urge to snatch her back. His entire being rebelled against letting someone else hold her when it wasn't absolutely _necessary_.

"Hmm, eleven inches, holly. … curious… how very curious…," Mr Ollivander muttered absently as he studied Manjushage's wooden length, oblivious to Harry's animosity.

"Sorry, Mr Ollivander," Hermione said, inquisitiveness glinting in her eyes, "but _what's_ curious?"

For a single, blazing moment, Harry _hated_ her. Her curiosity and nosiness, that had gotten him in this position in the first place.

It wasn't fair, he knew that, since she had no idea exactly how uncomfortable it made him. And she _did_ deserve to know about wand spirits. But that did little to reduce his anger.

Mr Ollivander suddenly looked up to meet Harry's eyes.

"You amaze me, Mr Potter," he said softly, his unnerving pale stare fixed on Harry's angry green. "Never have I seen a wand so strongly bonded after such a short time. Never, in all my life. The wand chooses the wizard, yet they rarely reveal themselves so soon to their owners. How curious indeed. I've said it before, Mr Potter. I think we must expect great things from you."

Harry tried to keep calm, but his entire being resented Mr Ollivander's words. People and their bloody idolisation of the Boy Who Lived. They didn't even know him. Couldn't they just keep their bloody opinions to themselves? He had already heard enough of people's _expectations_ to last him a lifetime.

He quickly snatched Manjushage out of the man's hand when Mr Ollivander held her out and left before he could say something he'd regret.

Harry didn't see how Mr Ollivander's silvery eyes followed him out of the door. He wouldn't have cared anyway. Not about being rude and not about the bad impression he had just made.

He was too busy trying to figure out why his friends seemed to think _nothing_ of handing their companions over, when he himself could barely stand the thought, let alone actually doing it. Had it to do with Juushirou? Was that why he wasn't as nonchalant about this like his friends?

_:Don't be silly. She's your spirit. Your friend. Of course you are protective of her. Given that her physical form is so much more fragile than ours, it is entirely reasonable.:_

Harry sighed. Now he had created some distance he felt the worst of his anger ebb. He leaned tiredly against the wall. _I suppose so,_ he allowed. _But why doesn't everyone else feel that way then?_

A mental shrug. _:They probably have no understanding of what handing over one of your spirits means. They haven't contacted their spirits yet, so maybe that's why they do not feel as protective as you. Who knows? Does it really matter?:_

 _I suppose it doesn't…._ It didn't change how he felt. And… he didn't _want_ it to change. How could he _not_ care about who handled Manjushage? She was _his_ spirit.

He focused his thoughts on her. _Are you alright?_ he asked hesitantly.

A soft chuckle was his reply, relief hiding in the shadows of light-hearted mirth. _:Yes. He didn't do anything to me.:_

 _Good,_ Harry thought, feeling himself relax at Manjushage's assurance. For a moment he just breathed, letting the anxiety that had accumulated over the weeks leading up to this meeting leak away. Manjushage's warm wood in his hand was comforting, allowing his thought to finally focus on something else than how wrong it had felt to hand his wand over to someone else.

He ran an agitated hand through his hair and grimaced. _I… really didn't handle that well, did I?_

He felt Sougyo no Kotowari shrug. _:Could have been worse, could have been better. If they get mad at you, you can always apologize later.:_

Harry sighed. _Shouldn't I anyway?_ _I wasn't being fair._

His spirits were silent for a moment. Then Sougyo no Kotowari replied, _:Fair is so subjective. Was is fair of you to be angry with Hermione and Mr Ollivander? Maybe not. But does that mean you should not_ be _angry? No. Mr Ollivander should already understand. He is a wandmaker. If there's anyone in the world who should know about wand spirits and the relation between them and their wielders, it is him. He, at least, would have seen your reaction coming. But Hermione does not know. We don't think you should tell her everything, but you may want to explain_ something _about why you acted the way you did.:_

Twin smiles formed thin crescents in his mind. _:She'll probably nag you about it anyway. She did not seem happy with how you acted.:_

Harry made a face. Yeah. If there was one thing he disliked about Hermione, it was how she tended to forget things like privacy and personal boundaries when she was curious about something, and then got all defensive and indignant when someone told her off. That happened a lot the past few weeks. Hermione had been curious and prodded him about wand spirits using 'preparation for the meeting' as an excuse. It was mildly annoying at best, and most of the time plain irritating.

 _:A common flaw among the young,:_ the twins chuckled. _:Be firm. Don't get angry, but don't let her push you around either.:_

_Why do I have the feeling that that sounds far easier than it is?_

_: Because you've learned a couple of things by now?:_

Harry smiled with a huff and directed his thoughts to Manjushage. _Why did you reveal yourself so quickly to me anyway? Mr Ollivander said that was really unusual._

 _:I think you can guess,:_ was her wry comment. Sougyo no Kotowari stayed suspiciously silent. Harry had the feeling that if he looked at the twins right now he'd be met with wide-eyed innocence.

… _Yeah, I suppose I can._

Breathing in through his nose, Harry leaned his head against the wall. He supposed he should go back now…

He considered it for a moment and shook his head. No. Better not. Talking with his spirits might have eased the worst of his temper, but anger still simmered beneath his skin. Sougyo no Kotowari were right. Maybe it wasn't fair to be mad at them, but that did not change that he _was._ Best to avoid them for now.

 _:We could visit Hyouden,:_ Manjushage suggested, clearly not eager to return to that room either. _:We haven't seen her in a while.:_

Now there's an idea. Harry nodded. Relieved that he would not have to face his friends or Mr Ollivander, he set out to the Owlery. Let Hermione deal with Mr Ollivander's creepiness. It was her idea in the first place.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

For a long moment Hermione could only gape as the door fell closed behind Harry.

Then she became indignant. "Well, have I _ever!_ How rude!" she huffed. _Un_ believable. She had not expected such callous disrespect from him. She knew Harry had been opposed to the idea of meeting Mr Ollivander – though she couldn't phantom _why,_ surely Mr Ollivander could be persuaded to keep quiet – but Mr Ollivander had been perfectly polite!

True, it was her fault that Mr Ollivander had known in the first place, and she did feel guilty about that, but honestly, what was the big deal? Mr Ollivander had just been _looking._ Sometimes she didn't get Harry at all.

"Well, that went well," Ron remarked dryly.

Hermione wished he sat close enough to kick his shins. Honestly Ron, your timing. Didn't he realize how rude he sounded? At least Neville was polite enough not to say anything!

Honestly. Those two! Sometimes she wondered why she was friends with Harry and Ron. Harry was nice, most of the time, but he could make things so _difficult_. At those times he could be downright unreasonable _._ And Ron was sometimes so insensitive she at times seriously considered finding a book on that topic and hitting him over the head with it. Then again, he probably wouldn't read it even if she did do that.

At times like these she wondered why she put up with them. Neville was the only reasonable friend she had.

She almost missed Mr Ollivander's words in her aggravation.

"It is of no consequence. A certain measure of possessiveness is only to be expected once a bond has reached that level," Mr Ollivander murmured to himself, fingers rubbing absently against each other as if missing the wand he had held. "Now he's that far no other will ever suffice. They will be fine."

… _What?_

Mr Ollivander turned to her, but before she could ask a question, he dropped a golf ball-sized orb in her hand. It laid smooth and heavy in her hand, made of pale yellow metal – gold? – and dark red-brown wood and glistening black stone, all artfully crafted together. She thought to recognized some runes on it, and some other form of ancient writing that flowed like water bubbling over pebbles. As she turned it in the light, flints of colour danced in and out of the visible spectrum all over its surface.

It was beautiful.

"Give that to him," Mr Ollivander said before she could offer him her confused gratitude, and Hermione frowned when she realized that it is not a request.

She was perplexed, but respected the venerable old wandmaker too much to protest. Confused, she slipped it into her pocket. "I'm sorry, but what is it? And why do I give it to Harry?"

She didn't ask 'why do you want to give him something after he was so rude' but it was a near thing.

"It will help him develop his bond with his spirit," was Mr Ollivander's cryptic reply. He then refused to say anything more about it. All she got out of him was that it had something to do with how Harry had been acting.

"But Mr Ollivander, if you know what is up with Harry, shouldn't we know as well?" she asked him with a puzzled frown after several of her questions had been effortlessly deflected. "We're his friends. Maybe we can help."

"I'm afraid that I cannot, Miss Granger. The line needs to be drawn somewhere," Mr Ollivander responded. "If he desires the knowledge he should come and talk to me. But it would be awfully presumptuous of me to let you play messenger without at least consulting him now matters have become so personal for him." He turned to her friends, clearly done with the topic.

But that didn't tell her _anything!_ Hermione huffed, frustrated, but she could hardly force someone like him to answer. So with a last aggravated sniff she leant back in her seat and let him change the subject.

"So, Mr Longbottom, Mr Weasley," Mr Ollivander started. "I have to say I was surprised when you failed to appear at my shop last summer."

Ron's ears pinked and he looked away, muttering something unintelligible. It was Neville who answered.

"That's because we already have wands, you see," Neville explained, rushed and slightly embarrassed.

Mr Ollivander frowned. "Really now? Well, I suppose that explains it then. Would you mind if I saw them?"

Hesitantly, Neville handed the wandmaker his wand. Though with far less reluctance than Harry had, Hermione saw approvingly. And let Harry try to say something against that. Neville was from an old wizarding family and obviously didn't mind that Mr Ollivander saw his wand. Clearly Harry had made an unnecessary fuss.

Maybe she should tell him that later. There was no _sense_ in holding on to non-existent issues. Harry was just being silly.

"Ah, yes. I remember this wand. Thirteen inches on the dot. Blackthorn. Fairly bendy. Its former owner being Frank Longbottom, your father. His third wand, I believe. A wand well suited to him, but I am afraid, far less suited to you."

Neville flushed and looked down, red with embarrassed humiliation.

Hermione frowned at the venerable old man. That wasn't a nice thing to say at all. Neville's confidence in himself wasn't that good already. Mr Ollivander was just making it worse, making thoughtless comments like that.

"Yes," Mr Ollivander continued undisturbed. "The wand chooses the wizard, and part of that choice is based on temperament. It is always curious, how someone's temperament can change over the years. It makes selling wands a fascinating business."

Oh, so that's how it was. Hermione bumped her elbow against Neville's in a silent effort to cheer him up. Mr Ollivander wasn't being mean, he was just pointing out that Neville didn't suit his wand _at the moment,_ and getting his own wand would be better _._ Honestly, the man should be clearer in his communication, but then again, she had already realized that.

Not that it mattered. If Neville hadn't realized what Mr Ollivander meant yet, then she would gladly explain it to him.

Mr Ollivander handed it back. "Well, it is in good working condition at least, though it is not quite what I… Hm, well, if you are satisfied with its work, I suppose I cannot comment. Keep taking good care of it. Mr Weasley?"

Ron handed his over with slightly pink ears. His wand looked suspiciously more battered than Neville, and Hermione frowned. Didn't he take care of it?

To her surprise, Mr Ollivander didn't comment on the state of the wand. "Yes, yes. Another familiar one. Twelve inches, ash and unicorn hair. Belonged to Charles Weasley, your older brother, and before that to Gareth Weasley, your uncle, is it not?"

Oh, an old wand. That explained it then.

Ron's ears reddened further. "I just got it from Charlie," he muttered. "Mum didn't say it used to be uncle Gareth's."

"I see, I see… Not entirely what I would say suits you… then again, apparently it is serviceable."

Fretfully, Hermione fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. Should she ask? Yes, she probably should. Heavens knew that the two boys wouldn't when they were still uncomfortable. "Mr Ollivander? If their wands do not suit them, wouldn't it be better if they just got new ones? You can get them those, right?"

Neville and Ron cast her horrified looks. Why? It was a perfectly sensible conclusion, given Mr Ollivander's comments. Didn't they _want_ to be better at magic?

Mr Ollivander's look was calm but piercing. Hermione bit her lip and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Why? Did she say something wrong?

"You will find, Miss Granger, that such a thing will always be the choice of the wizard," he said softly. "For as much as a wand cannot be used without its permission, it is still the wizard's choice to accept its decision. There are many reasons to take up a relative's wand instead of finding one of your own. As long as their wand work, it is up to them to choose whether they will continue to use them or not."

"… I see. I'm sorry," Hermione said, embarrassed. She supposed she should have thought of that. Still…

She really wanted to get better at this. And the boys too. They were her _friends_. Right now, they both struggled and she wanted them to do well. If getting a new wand or meeting their wand spirit could make that easier, shouldn't that be their main objective?

Well. Since new wands for them was apparently not an option…

Hermione held out her own wand. "I've been meditating. Can you tell how far along I am?"

Mr Ollivander cast one look at her and her wand. Leaned forward to run his fingers over its wood, before finally taking it.

"You have certainly been trying," Mr Ollivander acknowledged. Hermione blushed a little. Okay, she _may_ have mentioned a couple of times already in her letters. But she really wanted this to work. Surely he wouldn't hold that against her?

Fortunately, Mr Ollivander didn't mention it. Instead he gave her a frustratingly non-specific answer after a short inspection. "I have no doubt that your efforts have not gone unnoticed. But whether or not your wand will accept… well, that will be entirely your wand's choice. All I can advise you is to keep trying. No one can predict who will be one of the blessed souls that forms a full bond with their wands."

Hermione frowned as she accepted her wand back. "Harry has met his wand already."

"Miss Granger, do understand that Mr Potter's progress is exceptional. Usually it takes a wizard years of working with their wand before they achieve a bond as deep as Mr Potter's."

She perked up. "Really? How deep is it?"

"That is something you will have to ask your friend yourself," Mr Ollivander said, a stern rebuke in his eyes. Hermione shrunk back a little, abashed. Well okay, she supposed that _was_ a personal question.

For a moment she felt jealous of Harry. Why did he already have a deep bond, when she had not even heard a _whisper_ of her wand spirit? Surely Harry hadn't been working on it _that_ much longer than she? And she had been watching him. So far he seemed completely normal, so _surely_ the fact that he was the only one to survive a Killing Curse did not play a role in it? Mr Ollivander would have mentioned it if that was the case.

Maybe if she'd known sooner like Harry she would be better at it. At least a _little._

But no. She had to hear everything from _him._ Not even one of the teachers, but a boy just as old as she! And then she couldn't even find further information on it. How was that fair?

She curled a hand around her wand, feeling the warmth of the wood. Yet it still felt like a tool. A thing. Not the living being Harry and Mr Ollivander said it was.

"Why does no one _teach_ us this? They could at least tell us wands have spirits!" she demanded, frustrated anger leaking into her voice without her consent. She immediately felt ashamed at her rudeness.

"Because this is not something that can be taught," Mr Ollivander explained, apparently unperturbed by her outburst. "It is a matter between you and your wand, and you have to do yourself. Every person is simply too different. Either you will find your spirit, or you won't, and no one can tell beforehand if you will. All I can do is guide those who set the first step on this road in the right direction."

Oh, that sounded uncomfortably like flying. No books, no meticulous instructions. Just some vague advice and then you were expected to just _go_ and _do_ it _._ She _hated_ it when she couldn't prepare.

"So it's a trial," Neville said softly, reddening when everyone turned to face him. "It is, isn't it? What with letting everyone figure it out for themselves?"

"I suppose calling it that is accurate," Mr Ollivander allowed. "Though once it was not so. A couple of centuries ago the little instruction that could be given _was_ given. But around 17th century it became considered superstition, since those few who managed to create a bond with their spirits considered it a highly private affair, and thus were tight-lipped about it. Which made it a great source of envy, and reason for quite a few bitter spats between members of prominent families. Those who claimed bonds with their wands but refused to speak in detail about it were soon called liars and worse. Because of that much of the knowledge on wandlore was cast out entirely as myths and legends, fairy tales created to give wands more mystique, and to give status and prestige where none was due." Mr Ollivander _humph_ ed. "Which is ridiculous, of course. The founders of Hogwarts would have never been able to achieve their incredible magical feats without working closely together with their wands. There's a reason why so very few have been able to match their greatness. But despite protests, all mentions of wand spirits were banned from the educational books, and have not been returned since."

Hermione felt ice sit like lead in her belly. But… if so few managed, even back when they were being told… "Why?" she asked aghast. "The wand chooses its owner, does it not? That means they're compatible, right? Then why can so few contact it? It was the wand's own choice!"

Mr Ollivander regarded her with shrewd intelligence. "And there, Miss Granger, you touch upon the core of the problem, and what cast the knowledge on the spirits of wands into obscurity. The answer is, we do not know. Some people meet their wands with ease, while others spent decades trying and never even hear so much as a whisper. Sometimes someone who has all the marks of someone who should succeed with ease never does, and other times the most unlikely of characters manage without even trying. The reason why this is so is a mystery. It's not just decided by power or aptitude between wand and wizard. There are other factors involved, but few have been identified with any kind of surety. Desire and determination are speculated to play a role – on both sides, I suspect – and openness of mind is ever needed when working with wands, but other than that..." He looked at his hands, lost in thought.

"Being chosen by a wand is like being chosen by a stranger," he said softly. "Though a wand perceives a potential owner differently than a human does, it's choice still depends entirely on first impressions, and only time and effort can tell whether that choice was the right one. If it is not, well," Mr Ollivander gestured, as if casting something away. "A bond will never blossom under such circumstances. However, sometimes circumstances change. Sometimes a seemingly insignificant event makes an unwilling wand suddenly willing to meet, but what makes such an event such a turning point..." he shook his head and spread his hands.

"The thing is, even the best of us do not know. Magic is a mysterious and fascinating power, and the magic of a wand is the most mysterious of all. All I can advise you is not to take it for granted, and do not stop trying to reach your wand. You never know if or when your wand will decide to reach out and meet you. If that moment comes, you need to be ready to reach back."

Neville looked sadly at his wand. "Does that mean that Ron and I have less of a chance? Our wands didn't choose us."

Ron frowned as if that hadn't occurred to him, and sat up a bit straighter.

Mr Ollivander tilted his head thoughtfully. "Not necessarily. No one can predict a wand's choice, nor how its attitude towards its owner will change over time. They work for you, so you should at least have a chance to prove yourself worthy."

Hermione was elated. So Neville and Ron _did_ stand a chance! That was wonderful! Ron seemed happy as well, but Neville looked worried. Probably wasn't confident he could prove himself. Well, that wouldn't be necessary. She would help him get better and then he would show his wand how worthy he was.

As for herself, well, she certainly wasn't giving up until she was as far as Harry. She was going to meet her wand, because even though she hated the lack of information and guidance, this was _important._

Now if only she could convince Harry to quit being silly and tell her a little bit more on what to expect. Surely wands were at least somewhat comparable in how they approached their owners….

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand, that's it for today. Like I said, I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, so I hope the talk with Ollivander didn't disappoint.
> 
> On the meeting location: I've always believed that there had to be ways for parents to contact their children outside vacations. It wouldn't make sense if there wasn't, if only because not all children handle separation from their parents well, and some parents might want to talk about kids that cause a lot of trouble, like Fred and George.
> 
> However, I can imagine why it hasn't come up in the series. Harry doesn't have anyone who fits the role of parent (at least not legally; Mrs Weasley might wish differently, but she has nothing to do with Harry's schooling), Ron's parents have had so many children that by now everything is routines so meetings like that are no longer necessary (probably just very exasperated letters), and Hermione doesn't really cause that much trouble (at least, as far as the teachers are aware. Outside of end-of-the-year daredevil stunts that Dumbledore always forgives them for), plus her parents are muggles. And most of the cast outside those three are not focused on enough for that kind of issues to be mentioned.
> 
> On Ron's wand: a little bit of inventiveness on my part. I've always found it curious that Ron got Charlie's old wand when his parents could have easily given Ron a new wand and let Charlie keep his own. Now, I considered several options and I decided that either Charlie bought his new wand from his own money, or his old wand was a heirloom like Ron's and it had simply been time for him to get his own. Maybe it had been a gift for his graduation or something. I've decided to go for the second option, and I invented Gareth Weasley for that. On the wikia it says that Arthur has two brothers anyway, and nothing is further mentioned about them. So there you go.
> 
> Now, to address something unrelated to this specific chapter, TrueMetis brought up a really good point: the timelines of Bleach and Harry Potter don't line up.
> 
> It's extremely embarrassing, but to be honest, I hadn't really thought of that. Yeah, feel free to laugh. Then again, this was supposed to be a simple oneshot, without any real in-depth background explanation, so please forgive me for forgetting to think of important bits like that. Given that getting the timelines to line up the proper way will require some serious bullshitting and hand waving with time-travel or something similar (which would complicate the storyline even further when it is already complicated to epic proportions), I kindly ask for suspension of disbelief when it comes to the timeline. Please pretend Bleach takes place before Harry Potter, and that Bleach ended after butterfly Aizen was defeated.
> 
> As for why ending after butterfly Aizen: I love the concept of Bleach and most of the characters, honestly I do, but I never liked the arcs that followed after butterflyAizen (actually, I didn't like the end of the butterflyAizen bit either, but I have to have a logical point to stop following the series somewhere). There are just too many inconsistencies and weird power upgrades, and I dislike that Ichigo is the only one ever capable of taking down the main villain. I mean, honestly! Aizen I could sort of understand because Ichigo was the only one not under his illusion, and I can kinda see the Captains not wanting to unleash Bankai when they may end up destroying something they really don't want destroyed (like, say, parts of the human world outside of the fake Karakura), but it has just become plain ridiculous by now. Not to mention that Ywach has become a full-blown Gary Stu, which is something that should only happen in bad fanfics, not canon. Right now I'm only waiting for a girl he falls madly in love with, and then the ridiculous picture will be complete.
> 
> I'm sorry for those who had great hopes for my take on later arcs and their influences on this story, but I am incapable of writing things I don't enjoy myself, so ignoring those arcs is the best way for me to get anywhere (hell, if I had insisted on following canon, I probably wouldn't have written this story in the first place just to spare myself the headache).
> 
> You may not agree with my decision to do it this way, but this is how I want to work. Please accept that.
> 
> That said, wow, this author's note is long. Sorry about that.
> 
> See you all next time!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disputes are part of friendship too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. It's a bit later than I wanted, but here you go. Enjoy!

 

Neville frowned as he followed Hermione and Ron through the castle to find Harry. He hadn't been in the common room or near the Great Lake so now they were wandering around looking in random places hoping to stumble across him. Hermione was babbling about how excited she was to meet her wand and how she hoped that they would meet their wands soon as well, and how Harry had been absolutely unreasonable back in the room. Honestly, she had said, it was just his _wand_. She understood being careful, it was very important to him after all, but surely he didn't need to be _that_ protective of it? They were his _friends_ and Mr Ollivander was a _professional_. They weren't going to do anything bad!

Hermione was clearly convinced that the whole issue with Harry's wand wasn't as serious as Harry made it out to be, but Neville wasn't so sure. Harry didn't seem to think his wand was 'just' anything. His friend had seemed truly uncomfortable with giving Mr Ollivander his wand. Harry had seemed wary and angry and had looked as if he had wanted to snatch his wand back and hide it the moment Mr Ollivander had touched it. That was a bit extreme for just being 'unreasonable' or 'overly suspicious'.

Neville suspected that there was a lot going on that Harry hadn't told them about. Since that first vague mention during the train ride Neville had never heard him talk about his wand of his own volition. It was always Hermione asking Harry about it, and even when Ron or he had a question Harry avoided giving details on his own spirit, only giving very generic comments, as if any more would give him the plague. His friend had never denied that he had met his, and always encouraged them to try to find theirs, but never anything more.

Harry had always claimed that he didn't want anyone to know that he had met his spirit, but that sounded like an excuse after today. From what Neville had seen, it was more as if Harry was feeling _extremely_ protective of his wand. It was a bit odd, but Neville could sort of understand since a wand was a wizard's most important tool. And they _were_ quite fragile. It being alive probably worsened the protectiveness.

But still. Merlin, if Neville hadn't seen his friend use his wand in class, he would almost think it was a diary, with how tight-lipped and secretive Harry was about his. As far as he knew Harry even slept with it beneath his pillow, safely tucked away in that holster of his. His owl Hyouden was a living being too, and Harry wasn't nearly as protective of her as he was of his wand. There was definitely more going on than his wand just being alive and fragile.

It matched with what Mr Ollivander had said about people considering their bonds with their wands as highly private and personal. As if it was a dear companion no one else could hear and see. Precious, and something you needed to take great care of.

Considering the number of questions Hermione had been asking in the light of what Mr Ollivander had said, Neville couldn't say he was surprised by Harry's foul mood. If the bond between a wand and a wizard was truly that personal….

Well. Neville just hoped Harry would not get too angry with Hermione before they managed to convince her to let the topic go. Harry was usually fairly calm, but from their interactions with Draco Malfoy he knew his friend had quite a temper on him. And it was, unfortunately, an unpredictable one. Sometimes so slow to rouse it seemed almost non-existent, like a candle flame's carefully limited, steady size, while at other times you could see the anger grow before your eyes, like spell fire taking hold on a pile of tinder.

Neville had the uncomfortable feeling that if Hermione pushed any further they would get to see the latter.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

In the end, they found Harry purely by chance. Ron just happened to spot him through a window near the Owlery, sitting in a secluded courtyard. Harry was leaning against one of the trees, petting his owl and feeding her treats. His expression was almost serene, though there was still an undertone of faint irritation.

They quickly went downstairs. Hermione looked all fired up. Ron looked as if he wanted them to solve the whole thing and otherwise drop the subject. Neither of them seemed to notice that Harry hadn't fully calmed down yet.

Neville had a really bad feeling about this.

"Harry, there you are! We've been looking for you all over the place!" Hermione huffed, out of breath from all the stairs they had been taken over the last hour.

"Yeah, mate. Good hiding spot though," Ron said admirably, taking in the towering walls on all sides, the trees in the corners that offered additional seclusion, the ancient ivy that covered most of the walls, and the complete lack of any other people around.

"You're lucky Mr Ollivander isn't mad," Hermione continued. "He could have been, you know? Just because you didn't like going doesn't mean you should be so rude. He was even nice enough to give you something, which, honestly, is really very kind of him, especially after how you behaved. Truly, I don't understand why you were being so difficult."

Harry's expression changed. It reminded Neville very much of the gathering of dark storm clouds. Thunder, to be exact. Hyouden, apparently well aware of her owner's rising temper, quickly sought refuge in a tree.

"Oh, _really_?" Harry said frigidly. His eyes went to Ron and Neville. "And you? Did you come here to lecture me too?"

The banked fury in his friend's eyes made Neville quickly shake his head, wishing he could join Harry's snowy owl in the safety of the branches without looking as if he was abandoning either of his friends.

Ron shrugged, looking uncomfortable under Harry's piercing gaze. "Well, you were being a bit weird about it. We know you don't want to talk about it, and yeah, Ollivander's a bit freaky. The way he looks at you is bloody creepy. But he knows some wicked stuff and I think he knows what he's doing. You're always telling us to get better at this whole wand spirit stuff, I don't really get what the problem is."

"So what? This isn't part of any lessons, so I can go about it however I want to."

"But _why_?!" Hermione exclaimed with a frown. "He could be able to help you! And you _want_ to get better at this, right? He probably knows tons of stuff about it! Why won't you talk to him?"

"It's _private_! She's _my_ wand, Hermione! It's none of his business!" Harry shot back, voice rising as well.

"How can you say that? Mr Ollivander is a wandmaker! He _made her!_ "

"He _sold_ her! He never even talked to her! She doesn't even know what he is like! She's _mine_. I can figure this out myself, I don't need him to poke his nose in!"

"He's an _expert_! And you don't need to be so secretive to _us_! We're your friends!"

Harry growled, eyes flashing. Neville shied away on instinct, something in the air warning him that staying nearby might be a very foolish thing to do. "For god's sake, Hermione! It's _no one's_ business but mine!Why don't you get that?"

"Hermione, didn't Mr Ollivander say that a lot of people who have met their spirits keep quiet about it?" Neville cut in in a desperate attempt to quell the argument.

"Yes, and look where _that_ got them! Because they refused to talk we are not even _told_ wand spirits exist! If they'd not been so secretive there would have been no issue!"

"Hermione. It. Is. _Private_. Would you let people go through your stuff, tell any secret you have and let them pick up and question anything that strikes their fancy just so they can satisfy their bloody curiosity?"

"What? Of course not! That's-" Hermione cut herself off when she realized what she was about to say. She blushed all the way to her roots. Neville let out a silent sigh of relief when he saw her anger make place for bewilderment, as if the rug had suddenly been pulled from under her anger. Still not what anyone would call calm, but better.

Oh, r-right…," she stammered. She frowned, narrowing her eyes with suspicion. "But… It isn't _really_ like that, is it? I mean… they are sold in shops, and it's just one item everyone uses. You even use it in class!"

Harry met her eyes with a glare. She flinched back from the intensity of it.

"You don't get it Hermione," Harry said coldly. "It is _exactly_ like that. We're _bonded._ Which means that she is _part of_ _my soul_. Excuse me for not being eager to hand her over to _anyone._ "

Hermione stared at him, lips moving aimlessly. Neville and Ron were similarly struck mute, only capable of gaping at their friend. Finally, Hermione found her voice. It had gained a few octaves during its absence. "Y-your _soul_?"

" _Yes._ "

"But- but," she finally started, a heavy frown forming on her face as she fought to figure out the implications of what Harry just told them. "That isn't- How did- Why didn't you _say_ so?! I thought… I didn't _know!_ You should have told me!"

Hermione looked increasingly upset. Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, visibly working to reign in his temper. "Yeah, well, I didn't know how you would react. This isn't a small thing, Hermione. This is one of the most fundamental parts of who I am. Yours will be the same for you. You may be my friend but I'm not going to trust _anyone_ with her, or detailed information about her, anytime soon."

Ron frowned. "Because it's a part of your soul," he said incredulously. "Your _soul._ Seriously, mate?"

" _Yes_."

"Blimey. How does that even _work_?" Ron asked, bewildered. He looked a bit freaked out. Neville could relate. He wasn't comfortable with having an addition to his soul he didn't know about either.

Harry shrugged. Tilted his head as if listening to something as he thought it over. Was he listening to his wand spirit? Neville had never seen such a clear indication that Harry was conversing with her. It was quite a bit more disconcerting than he had expected.

"I guess it's that a wand ties itself to your magic, which is part of your soul," Harry said slowly with a frown. "Like a… what are those things called that can't survive without working together with another being? I'm sure it was mentioned in biology class somewhere."

"Symbiont?" Hermione suggested. Neville and Ron were confused. What was biology?

Harry scratched his head. "Yeah, I think that's the word. It's a spirit that forms an addition to your own. By working together you both become stronger. A wand on her own can't do anything – 's far as I know, she isn't even fully aware without a bond – while a wizard without a wand is not nearly as powerful or in control of his magic. At least, that is what it looks like, since it seems that magical accidents stop happening after you've turned eleven. Merlin knows that I would have turned Malfoy's hair blue a hundred times over from sheer annoyance by now if I still had accidents –" Ron and Neville snorted a laugh at that, and even Hermione quirked a little smile "– But forming a bond means tying yourself to each other. You give her a part of yourself and in exchange she becomes a part of you. The spirit finds a home in your soul and you yourself gain a loyal companion who helps you with your magic."

Hermione nodded slowly, looking very puzzled. Suddenly her eyes widened. "Oh! So _that_ 's what he meant! Really! Would it be that much trouble to be a _little_ clearer?"

"Who meant what?" Neville asked.

"Mr Ollivander," Hermione replied. "It was in one of his letters. He said, 'a wand is a vessel for what lies inside you'. I thought he was just talking about magic. I didn't know your soul was involved as well. Oh! But if that's how it is, why don't we get our wands earlier? Wouldn't that be more convenient?"

Harry let out a gushing sigh. "No idea. Maybe. Ask Mr Ollivander, not me."

"Oh, I will definitely do that. But why didn't you tell us that the soul is involved before? Don't you trust us?" Hermione looked hurt.

Harry regarded her with guarded eyes. "… You were already talking to Mr Ollivander and had let him know I had a bond in the first place. I only figured this out by pure coincidence. I already appear to know so much more than most, I didn't want Mr Ollivander to have even more reason to be interested in my bond with my wand. Man's creepy enough already."

Hermione reared back in wounded offence. "I wouldn't let him find out on purpose!"

"I know. But I don't want him to find out by accident either," Harry countered. " _He_ should be the one to tell you about this stuff anyway. He probably has reasons why he didn't. I don't know _anything_ about teaching about wand spirits. He knows far better what you should know or not."

He sighed as her face gained a crestfallen look. "Now. You mentioned he had given me something. What is it?"

"Oh! Yes. Actually, I don't know. He didn't say. He only said it would help you develop your bond," Hermione informed him as she searched through her pocket, still shooting him hurt looks. She handed him the odd orb with a frown.

Harry looked as bemused as they had felt when Mr Ollivander had given Hermione the ball. He turned it around, holding it in the light to study the pattern of colours on the surface. They all watched with curiosity.

"Huh."

"Do you know what it is?" Hermione asked eagerly, her dejection making place for her usual curiosity.

"No clue," Harry admitted. "Guess I'll have to figure it out."

"Oh." She fidgeted. "Well… do you want to come to the common room with us?" she offered hesitantly. "We still have homework to do."

Harry shook his head. "I'll come later. I want to spend some time with Hyouden."

"Can I stay?" Ron asked, more than eager to follow Harry around to escape the threat of doing homework. "This place is pretty neat."

Harry gave him a guarded look before he nodded. "Go ahead."

Hermione deflated. Neville saw her worry her lip. He got the feeling that she was hurting more from her row with Harry than she was showing. Not that _that_ was surprising. Harry was a little scary when angry, and his unexpected revelation about the nature of wand spirits had shocked them all.

He looked at Harry, who had already returned his attention to his owl.

Well. Looked like Harry would be fine.

"I'll come with you, Hermione," Neville said. "I could probably use some help."

And offer some, in case she wanted it. She probably needed it more than Harry right now.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Harry breathed out slowly. Thank goodness that was over. Anger was still thrumming through his veins, echoes of that moment where all he could think was _how can she say that?_

He closed his eyes, reviewing the entire argument with worry. He hadn't been nearly as calm as he had wanted to be. But the moment Hermione said something dismissive about wands he could not help his temper. Manjushage was special. His spirits were more dear to him than anything else. They were the only things in the world that he knew he could blindly rely on. Sure, Hermione, Ron and Neville were his friends, but after having had only Sougyo no Kotowari for friends for years, the bonds he had with other people felt dangerously fragile and uncertain. Especially when there was a conflict.

Sometimes he wondered if he should bother with friends at all. But Sougyo no Kotowari had encouraged him making friends often enough that he knew the effort must be worth it, even though he doubted it at times. He trusted that his spirits knew what they were talking about.

Harry remembered very well the times that a deep feeling of loneliness had crept past his defences, and while Sougyo no Kotowari and Manjushage had done their best to ward it off, the fact that they could not act outside his mind had made him feel as if he was standing all alone in a world that did not like him. This mostly happened when he was dealing with the likes of Dudley, Malfoy, and Snape. Unfortunately, those three bothered him often enough that the feeling was fare more common than he would prefer. Sougyo no Kotowari were right that his friends helped against that.

And really, he admitted to himself, most of the time his friends weren't that bad. They had their squabbles, but it wasn't really _bad_ unless Hermione failed to reign in her rampaging curiosity, or Ron was being too thick-headed or obtuse to stand, or Neville was hesitant and stuttering and floundering for words and you just wanted him to _get to the point already_. It wasn't their fault they couldn't read his mind and emotions like his spirits could.

So. He shouldn't be so annoyed. Like Sougyo no Kotowari had said, friendship took a lot of effort from both sides, and while Harry sometimes felt his friends could do a bit more when it came to respecting privacy, he knew that wasn't fair. They didn't have centuries old Zanpakutou spirits from a previous life to advise them and to point out when they were being stupid.

 _Was I too harsh?_ he asked the depths of his soul.

A thoughtful hum was his reply. _:Don't think so. She looked a bit down, but she'll get over it.:_ The image of three smiles filtered through his subconscious into his mind. _:You did quite well, actually. Learning to hold your temper is difficult. At least you managed to keep from saying something truly hurtful,:_ Sougyo no Kotowari said.

 _:She had to hear it, that's for sure,:_ Manjushage added. She sniffed. _:Maybe now she will think a bit more before trying to dig into personal information for her own curiosity. I only hope she isn't approaching her spirit this way. I can't speak for hers, but if it were me, I would not appreciate it. Way too inconsiderate of my own wishes. Just because there is a connection doesn't mean she has the right to ask me to lay all my secrets bare before her.:_

_I guess. But we still fought. I wanted to avoid that._

Mental shrugs. The twins replied, _:Not that much. And it didn't escalate, so it wasn't too bad. Fights are part of being friends too. We don't think it will affect you for long. You're both too stubborn for that. It'll be fine.:_

Harry nodded slowly, feeling his breath ease with his spirits' confident reassurance. The twins were often right about these kind of things. A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"Hey, Harry. What's so funny?"

Turning his attention to Ron, Harry let his smile turn reassuring. Dredging up the memories of the last few minutes, he tried to reply with nothing but nonchalance. It helped that Ron didn't suspect anything, so his inner turmoil had gone unnoticed. "Nothing. But if you want to use this location as a hiding spot, you should make sure Fred and George don't know about it."

Ron scratched his head, looking annoyed at the thought of his brothers. "Yeah, I suppose…. Fat change that, though."

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Hermione was staring at her open book, not registering a single word of what was written on the pages before her. She knew Neville was shooting her worried looks, and she appreciated his concern, but before she could concentrate she needed to _think._

Today… had _not_ gone as she expected. She had hoped for a lesson from Mr Ollivander on wand spirits, since he had only hinted in his letters and had not given her straight answers at all. She had hoped that he'd be more forthcoming when they interacted face to face. She had also wished for Harry to be reassured by the wandmaker that being more open with information on his wand spirit towards his friends was a good thing. It wasn't as if they would abuse the information or anything.

However, instead of answers, she had gotten more questions, a scolding, and a fight with one of her best friends.

It had been startling enough to have her questions met with Mr Ollivander's infuriatingly cryptic and closed-off replies. To be scolded, no matter how indirect, just for being curious about a fundamental part of magic had been baffling. But then Harry's reaction, and what he had _said_ ….

Hermione looked at the wand lying next to her book. It looked innocent. Just a piece of pretty wood. To think that the spirit inside it was _part of_ _her soul_ ….

She had noticed Ron's and Neville's discomfort at the thought. She herself wasn't at ease with it either. One thing to know that a wand was alive. It was downright frightening that it wasn't just a living being lying there, but a piece of her soul.

It had never looked so fragile and vulnerable before. It was just a thin piece of wood. It would be so, so easy for anyone to break it. And if that happened… what on earth would happen to the spirit it harboured? What would happen to her _soul?_

Now she understood why Harry had a holster for his, and why he was so protective of it. To have a part of yourself so brittle and defenceless, so easily lost or damaged…. She shivered just thinking of it.

One thing was for sure. She would be getting a holster as soon as possible.

Knowing what she did now, she even understood Harry's secrecy a little. In every book she'd read, souls were _important_. More personal than even the thoughts in your head, because your soul was the essence of your entire being. Without your soul you were nothing but an empty husk.

She picked up her wand, running her fingers over it the way she had seen Mr Ollivander do. It was slightly warm as always, as if she had been holding it for a while already instead of having taken it into her hand just now. But she didn't feel anything else. Nothing that indicated how important her connection with it was.

She didn't get it. While she was definitely going to be a lot more careful with it now, she didn't feel that deep, almost desperate protectiveness she had seen in Harry.

Why?

She clasped her wand to her chest with both hands, feeling confused and dejected.

_If you're part of my soul, why won't you speak to me?_

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

After the whole meeting with Mr Ollivander debacle things went mostly back to normal. Though the topic of wand spirits was dropped like a hot potato, which was honestly quite baffling. Apparently, Harry getting fed up with Hermione's prodding had made all his friends wary of the subject. His friends still meditated, but Hermione's enthusiasm seemed to have died down a little now it was clear as crystal that she would get no more clues than she already had.

Harry wondered whether he should be worried about her. On one hand, not being nagged about Manjushage was nice. On the other, it was weird to see the bushy-haired girl so quiet about a topic she was so very interested in.

Then again, they had better things to worry about. His first quidditch match had been amazing and memorable, just like his teammates had promised. However, not because he made a beautiful, dramatic catch, but instead because someone had tried to throw him off his broom with a curse. Naturally, his spirits had been furious. According to his spirits it had been either Snape or Quirrell, as Manjushage had detected both their maryoku signatures while the curse lasted. She hadn't been able to tell who had done the cursing and who had tried to counter, so hard had the energies struggled against one another. Hermione thought it had been Snape, and honestly, Harry could picture that all too easily. If there ever was a professor who would want to throw him off his broom at great height, it was the dour bat of the dungeons.

But regardless of who it had been, Harry was going to be very careful around the both of them. Snape might be the obvious culprit, but Quirrell was a weird guy and Harry wasn't comfortable around the stuttering man, so he wasn't taking any chances.

It was a bit of a pity he had been too distracted by his broom's trashing. He reckoned it would be very useful if he could recognize maryoku signatures himself, especially signatures of people who might wish to see him dead.

Good thing Mr Ollivander had given him that odd orb. It had taken him over three weeks and bringing the magical impression of the ball into his Inner World before they had figured out what it was.

"Oooh!" Sougyo no Kotowari had exclaimed excitedly after they had tossed and turned and prodded the thing and Manjushage had finally managed to poke something that made one of the coloured spots jump from the surface. "It's a puzzle ball! You need to work together to solve the puzzles! It's a way to practice!"

Figuring out _how_ and _what_ , exactly, they were supposed to practice was easier said than done, but at least it kept them busy. Sougyo no Kotowari could manipulate the ball a little, but Manjushage's and Harry's actions had far more effect. Something to do with them using maryoku while Sougyo no Kotowari used reiryoku. Not that it stopped them. The twins and Manjushage had so much fun trying to figure Mr Ollivander's tool out that they did not nearly make as much mischief as before. You didn't know how easy it was to go to sleep until your child-like spirits no longer tried to get you to come play with them every single night.

And the results of their poking at Mr Ollivander's practice tool were quite nice. Apparently, what they did with the ball in his Inner World reflected in the real world. The first time Harry had risen from his meditation only to find the ball casting colours through the room like someone was throwing large quantities of glitter into the air, he had nearly given his friends a heart attack. Though Ron, Neville, and Hermione had been impressed by the response he had gotten out of it. As well as Dean and Seamus, when they stumbled into the room while Harry and Manjushage were still trying to figure out how to get the ball to stop.

Hermione had hesitantly asked if she could write Mr Ollivander about it. It had taken some careful thinking and consulting with his spirits before Harry had given her permission to ask about the ball. But _only_ the ball, he had stressed. He just wanted to know whether there was some kind of aim to the thing beyond making pretty colours with the help of his wand spirit.

True to her word, Hermione didn't ask Mr Ollivander anything about Harry or the bond he had with his wand spirit. Mr Ollivander's letter also didn't offer any information. It was just a short encouragement to keep doing that well.

Harry was glad for the old wandmaker's discretion, but annoyed with his lacking answer. However, Harry could take a hint when he got one, so he did not try to ask again, much to Hermione's bafflement. Sougyo no Kotowari and Manjushage did not mind continuing their experimenting anyway. They were, in fact, downright happy to.

Which, honestly, he should have expected. Curious as cats, those three, and twice as playful. Harry didn't mind in the slightest. He agreed that it was oddly satisfying to puzzle out the ball with just the four of them.

He only hoped it wouldn't have too much impact on his friends. He didn't need Sougyo no Kotowari or Manjushage to spot the wistful, almost envious looks Hermione send his way when he was busy with the ball and she thought he wasn't looking. Neville's wistful looks were milder, while Ron looked mostly annoyed, as if he wished that Harry could just keep it all under wraps and not bother anyone with it.

It wasn't surprising, according to Sougyo no Kotowari, that his friends wished they could be as far as he. Friends wanted to be equal in things. Or, at least, if they could not be equal in the same things, be able to compensate in other areas. In their studies it wasn't a problem. Hermione excelled in theory, Harry at practical work, Neville left them all in the dust with Herbology, and while Ron might not be good at studying, he beat them all when it came to strategy games like chess, which was a popular pastime in Gryffindor.

However, when it came to wands and their spirits, Harry was so far ahead it wasn't funny. And unlike with studying, they couldn't catch up just by practicing or reading books. In fact, they could not catch up at all until their spirits decided they felt like meeting them. Hermione handled it the worst, but as time passed it was clear that Neville and Ron weren't keen on being confronted with it either.

Which was why Harry very carefully dropped any mention of the topic and made sure to never practice where they could see. It meant he couldn't practice as much as he wanted to, but it was worth it for the sake of keeping the peace.

What a hassle. Sometimes he felt he never should have mentioned wand spirits back when they were on the train. It wasn't fair to his friends, but honestly, it would have saved so much trouble.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Halloween passed with a lot of excitement in the form of an unexpected guest wandering around the castle, but luckily no one was hurt in the time it took the professors to catch the troll. Then Christmas came, and the reprieve it brought was a relief. With Hermione and Neville gone for a couple of weeks, he had more time to practice without having to keep track of more than one person. Ron was a bit sulky that Harry disappeared for a couple of hours each day, but his brothers were experts in distracting him. Plus, Ron was more than happy to ignore anything to do with the whole wand spirit issue. Harry had the feeling Ron wasn't expecting any progress on his own front and was thus ready to abandon the issue entirely, which was worrying, but not surprising. Harry had noticed a similar pattern in his friend's studying behaviour. Ron had the bad habit to quit trying if he wasn't making progress fast enough. It drove Hermione up the wall at times.

Harry could not say he couldn't sympathise. It was difficult to keep putting a lot of effort in something when you could not even be certain your efforts would be rewarded. At least with spells and such the goal was in sight, if not necessarily within reach. A wand spirit was entirely too unpredictable.

Still, the holidays were wonderful. Harry hoped that a couple of weeks off would cheer everyone up, and not just him. It certainly seemed to help Ron, since he could display the talent that was usually overlooked in class by trouncing every single Gryffindor foolish enough to agree to a game of chess. True, they had their homework and their self-appointed task to figure out who on earth Nicolas Flamel was, but other than that, there was nothing to do but do as they wished.

The feast and the presents were just a nice bonus. There was just one mystery that stumped Harry and his spirits, Nicolas Flamel's identity aside. Who had send him an invisibility cloak?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to Rowling a wand is a "vessel for what lies inside the person". The exact quote has a slightly different meaning, but my first thought with that was: asauchi! And from that it was easy to jump to wand spirits. Pity I only found this quote during the creation of this chapter, it would have fit so well in the discussion with Ollivander. Ah well, water under the bridge, and I did manage to fit it in here.
> 
> Comments are welcome.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nature of spirits is a curious thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, thank god this chapter is done. Sorry for the delay but this did not want to be written. It took ages to straighten this chapter out.
> 
> Plus there was a little issue that distracted me quite effectively. Please read the note at the end of this chapter for more information on that.
> 
> Enjoy!

Sougyo no Kotowari approved of Hogwarts. They approved of it a whole lot. It gave their wielder what they'd only been able to provide in his Inner World before: a safe place where he could spread his wings without having to worry about anything trying to cut them off.

The muggle world hadn't been suitable for Harry. It was drowsy and dull. Sleepy and pacifistic. People made the news by simply throwing a few punches in a public place. Even Juushirou's division hadn't been that peaceful.

It made people blind. Blind and indifferent to anything that might not fit their peaceful, drowsy lives. Violence was something of hooligans and immigrants. Abuse something done only by drunks and failures of people, _not_ their own kind. Muggles had allowed the Dursleys free reign as long as they kept up the pretence of being normal and respectable. Harry was forced to struggle against the Dursleys every day and that was a vastly unfair fight. They curbed his growth instead of stimulating it. And the neighbours didn't even _notice._ Or worse, pretended not to.

Granted, Harry hadn't shown that much signs of abuse. No bruises beyond what might be expected from a boy playing rough games, no weird sick days. He had been healthy, if a bit too thin. At his age, the shabbiness of his appearance could still be explained away as parents not wanting to waste money on clothes he wouldn't be careful with. Which was one of the Dursley's most common excuses.

But still. Someone should have at least noticed the bullying done by his own cousin.

Maybe it had something to do with magic. Even in places that peaceful _someone_ should have noticed the differences between Harry and his cousin. That no one had even when Harry had been so obviously skinny and downtrodden while Dudley was the epitome of a child spoiled rotten, was a sign of meddling.

It was the most sensible option. Harry was famous. After Voldemort's demise it surely wouldn't have been safe for the orphaned baby held responsible, no matter _where_ he was kept. It would only take one lousy coincidence for him to be discovered. What was a better way to protect someone from simple bad luck than to make sure no one would notice anything unusual about him? Even Harry's magical accidents had been forgotten within hours by everyone but the Dursleys.

Though they had still encountered the occasional friendly wizard and witch who hadn't been fooled. _Only_ friendly ones, oddly enough. Maybe whatever spell had been used had allowed for those who would aid Harry if he needed it to at least recognize him? If that was the case then the spell also ensured that they wouldn't be able to remember when or where they'd met Harry, because with how enthusiastic some had been Sougyo no Kotowari were sure _some_ of those people would have tried – and likely succeeded – in meeting Harry again.

If Sougyo no Kotowari were right and that had been the plan, they had to admit that Dumbledore's plan to hide Harry had been very clever.

At least, initially. The consequences of failing to pick the right caretakers for their wielder were bad enough that they dearly wished they could manifest into a physical form.

In the muggle world wasn't good for Harry. There was nothing that nurtured their wielder, nothing that supported him and urged him to flourish. No mischief or joy to teach him what was precious enough to fight for. No playfulness and curiosity that would help him discover his own limits. The Dursleys choked all of that with their neglect and petty grudges, their spiteful indifference to Harry's wellbeing. Happiness was sabotaged, kindness mocked, and wonder suppressed ruthlessly, all because of the irrational resentment of narrow-minded people.

All Harry had learned among the muggles was the hard grit of reality, the indifference of strangers, and the general unfairness that was characteristic of life. Important lessons, sure, but without happiness and comfort to offset it, only crushing weights on their wielder's young shoulders.

At least once he had managed to win himself access to the remnants of his past life, Sougyo no Kotowari had been able to help him carry it. But that was bitter comfort, when they knew it shouldn't have been necessary.

Sougyo no Kotowari were aware that in a way, Harry was similar to some of the Shinigami who came from the Rukongai. He was alive and physically okay, but the casual cruelty he'd faced his entire life had left him scarred, despite Sougyo no Kotowari's efforts. They had hated it, but they had known from the start that a safe haven that only existed in their wielder's mind would not be enough. Harry needed to tend to his body and had to maintain what little goodwill he got from his relatives, so they'd been forced to send him off time and again.

Those Shinigami needed the Academy not just for learning how to be a Shinigami, but also to learn how to breathe freely, and to find out who they really were. To learn what they _wanted_ and not just what they _needed._

The magical school did for Harry what the Academy did for those Shinigami: it gave him time to be himself. To learn about himself without his family trying to make him a meek, beaten-down dog begging for their approval. Here, away from the toxic influence of his family, Harry was free to explore his desires and beliefs, and the things _he_ would be willing to put his life on the line for.

Hogwarts truly was a wonderful place. It offered their wielder friendship, and wonder, and the promise of challenges. _Proper_ challenges, that Harry could strive to overcome. Things and situations that tested his creativity and sense of honour. Things that would nurture and stimulate Harry's developing sense of self.

Simple, everyday things like how to handle people who meant well and how to deal with disagreements. Slightly rarer things, like Ollivander's intriguing puzzle ball, the balance he had to find between defending himself against his rivals and keeping himself out of trouble, and the tantalizing mystery that surrounded Nicolas Flamel and the would-be-thief of whatever was hidden on the Third Floor Corridor.

All things Harry would need to really _grow,_ that weren't offered in any classroom or lesson, and his family didn't give him either. Grow, and maybe one day, the unpredictable and exiting world of magic would bring him the opportunity that would lead him to the blade hidden in his soul.

Sougyo no Kotowari wanted Harry to find it. The core of himself that was the source of their power, and the part of him he would need to draw on to manifest their physical form. They wanted it very badly.

They had wondered, back when Harry had still been stuck in the muggle world, how long it would take before Harry would acknowledge what his soul already knew: that they were a blade left idle to rust. Worse, a blade shunned for its true purpose, regarded as inferior to even the humblest kitchen knife. That grated, like water slowly but surely gnawing holes in soft rock. Though Harry refused to recall their previous life, that callous disregard still cut the way it had cut Juushirou, before he'd grown so strong even the most foolish of the nobles had been forced to admit he wasn't the pitiful crippled youngster they had made him out to be.

Sougyo no Kotowari would have made the Dursleys pay a thousand times over for the way they made Harry feel, had they been able to manifest. They hated how Harry's _own family_  tried to beat him down.

Harry hated it too. His anger was hidden so deep under layers of resignation and sufferance that he might not be aware of it, but it burned steadily like smouldering coal. They wished they could suggest Hollow-hunting as a way to relax. Some violence towards creatures who needed it would have been good for him. Nothing better than a deserving target to vent on.

Unfortunately, that wasn't an option.

They could not let their wielder face Hollows. Without their physical form or even a kidou to protect himself with, Harry could not defeat one of those wretched, corrupted souls. And so far, Harry had not felt comfortable enough with his heritage to pursue either, preferring to hide from the Hollows instead. Which was wise! They just wished it wasn't necessary.

Sougyo no Kotowari did have hope for the future. It was possible that Harry might be able to face those creatures with Manjushage's aid sometime in the upcoming years. Though they suspected it would take a few more years before Harry would learn the kind of magic that might give him a good chance in a fight.

So regretfully, no Hollows. Harry just wasn't ready for those. Not yet. But there were other things they could do to slowly bleed off the poison, and start to guide Harry to the truth of his soul.

They had to start out slow. Right now, Harry was still more fragile than Juushirou had ever been since before he'd entered the Academy. Sougyo no Kotowari had not been awake yet all those centuries ago, but they still had one or two of Juushirou's memories that were clear enough to confirm what they knew in their hearts.

Harry, for all his bravery and boldness and his feigned confidence, was still fragile and uncertain inside. The way Juushirou had been until Katen Kyoukotsu's wielder had proven once and for all that he believed in him and would always support him. Starting by kidnapping him from his fretting relatives who were almost literally strangling him with their concern after the first time Juushirou had pushed himself too far in his training and had been bedridden for two weeks. Katen Kyoukotsu's wielder had even managed to drag Minazuki's wielder along, though Sougyo no Kotowari suspected that she'd only gone along with it because she wished to see what kind of warrior their sickly wielder could be come.

Harry's friends didn't know enough yet to realize what Harry needed from them. Too young, too innocent, too sheltered. And Sougyo no Kotowari were well aware that Harry's friends did not possess the gift of insight Katen Kyoukotsu's wielder had been able to boast.

That was okay. This time round their wielder could already hear them, so what his friends lacked Sougyo no Kotowari and Manjushage could make up for.

There were plenty of little things they could use after all. Small things, that let him slowly build his strength and confidence, like his talent for flying. Like the joy he could find in a good game. Successfully sneaking past a patrolling teacher at night. All those things like little scraps of tinder to nurture the spark of a single ember into a bonfire.

Slowly, slowly, Harry was growing. His confidence became more and more real. Closer to what they desired for their wielder.

It was difficult, balancing what they knew Harry was right now and what he had the potential for. Difficult, not to push Harry to seek out the memories Juushirou had left them. They knew Harry wasn't anywhere near ready, but there was no helping their desire.

Harry was in his heart a warrior. Sougyo no Kotowari's very presence proved that, and they desperately desired for him to become one in truth. To reach into his soul and draw them forth.

Unfortunately, getting to that point was a very complicated matter.

On one hand, mere _classes_ would never be enough to help Harry reach his soul's full potential. He would need to face challenges, _battles,_ and life-threatening danger _._ He would need to test himself and push himself to be better if he ever was to wield the full power of his soul.

But on the other hand, Harry needed to learn about himself at his own pace more than anything. Needed the peace to learn his own mind. How could they ask him to face his past as Juushirou, when he had not discovered what made him Harry? Harry would need that surety before he ventured into Juushirou's domain.

For most Shinigami there was no greater teacher than hardship. No better way to find the essence of themselves than to be pushed to their very limits. It was in the heat of combat, when they teetered on the very edge of soaring and collapsing, when they had nothing _but_ themselves to rely on, that most Shinigami found their Zanpakutou's name, and the key to the core of their power.

Harry was different. He had already faced too much hardship, and not in a good way. Hardship had led him to them and the remnants of Juushirou that slept within him, but that was the only positive thing it had brought him. It hadn't been anything he could fight, nothing he had been able to protect himself from, and knowing that had wounded him. So right now, more than he needed to be pushed to his limits, Harry needed to find stability first. Needed to find something he could trust beside himself.

Shinigami shouldn't be this alone.

Sougyo no Kotowari were happy that they and Manjushage were able to be there for him. Though their presence was a double-edged blade. Usually, someone who had gone through the things Harry had would cling to the friends he had made. Too desperate for support to hold back and still undamaged enough to hope they would get it. But Harry had depended on his spirits and the sanctuary of his Inner World too long for that to happen. He only had his bonds with his spirits and the insidious influence of his tightly suppressed memories of his life as Juushirou to compare his current friendships to.

Both were doing more harm than good in that regard.

He might choose not to consciously remember it, but Harry _knew_ in his heart what true friendship was like. Juushirou's bond with Katen Kyoukotsu's wielder had been an awe-inspiring example of it. It was no wonder that Harry saw his current friendships as pathetically inadequate imitations. His bonds with his friends were awfully fragile compared to the bond between Shinigami and Zanpakutou, or the bonds he had held as Juushirou. Harry really shouldn't compare them. Sougyo no Kotowari knew he couldn't help it, that it was a subconscious progress of comparing _this is what I see_ with _this is what I feel it should be_ when judging any form of friendship. But it wasn't good for him.

Sometimes, one could definitely make an argument for the old 'ignorance is bliss' adage. Right now, Harry's conscious and subconscious knowledge kept him isolated. And until he felt ready to trust his friends Harry wouldn't reach out much further than he already had, leaving the gap between them to yawn widely. It would be less pressing if his friends had been unaware what he kept from them, but that was not the case. Being reluctant to share details about your spirits was entirely normal for a Shinigami, whose skills at secrecy might one day save their life and the lives of all they care for. But friends could usually be trusted with _some_ details. Harry hadn't shared more about Manjushage than her gender and approximate age. Most friends knew at least the names of each other's spirits.

If they had felt that any of Harry's three friends was less than honest in their offer of friendship Sougyo no Kotowari would have fully approved of that reticence. Names had power and could reveal a lot about a spirit, so reticence could be a lifesaver when dealing with hostile people. But Ronald, Hermione, and Neville were as honest as children that young could be. They didn't _want_ to harm Harry. They only wanted to be his friends.

Yet Harry was still not willing to reveal more. Not until he was _sure_ he could trust them to keep the knowledge to themselves.

To be fair, they recalled that Juushirou had been similarly reticent about them. People knew Sougyo no Kotowari were paired blades, but no more. Only those who had fought next to him when he'd released his Shikai had known their name. Only Katen Kyoukotsu's and Ryuujin Jakka's wielders had known the full extent of their abilities. It seemed that Juushirou's habits were filtering though, despite Harry's wishes and Sougyo no Kotowari's efforts. And Harry didn't seem to wish to adjust them anytime soon.

Sougyo no Kotowari sighed to each other. Theirs was such a troublesome wielder. Just as bad as their old one. They wished the conversation on the train had never happened. So much trouble could be saved if Harry hadn't forgotten himself in the heady anticipation of that day. His friendships would be far less tense if his friends were not aware of the secrets he kept.

Yet Harry refused to speak, especially now the argument had come to a standstill. Not that Sougyo no Kotowari _wanted_ him to reveal anything about Manjushage just to spare his friends' feelings, but the tension lingered. Names and knowledge were important and shouldn't be given freely, but reasonable actions still caused friction when others were not aware of this. Harry's stubborn refusals to speak of his wand had worsened the tension.

He really could have used Juushirou's skill of persuasion for those conversations. At least then Harry would have known how to make his friends understand that he preferred to leave it up to their own spirits and Ollivander to give them the knowledge they desired. Alas, he would need a lot of practice before he'd reach his past self's level of expertise. So troublesome.

Yet at the same time, his resolution was one of the things Sougyo no Kotowari loved about their wielder. All Shinigami needed a certain amount of stubbornness if they ever wished to get anywhere. No goal was reached without it. Juushirou had needed that persistence to overcome the limitations of his illness. Harry would need it if he ever wished to neutralize the leaden weight of the memories of their soul's past.

Already, Harry's will was stronger than most, and Sougyo no Kotowari could only be glad for it, even though it was sometimes more trouble than it was worth. Not in the least because it gave them quite a few dilemmas.

One was that they had to find a way to help Harry acknowledge his soul's past. Which was difficult enough on its own, as right now, Juushirou's memories still vastly outnumbered Harry's. Even suppressed their presence felt overwhelming to Harry.

Predictably, Harry refused to examine his past as Juushirou. He was very stubborn about it. For now, Sougyo no Kotowari would allow him that luxury. They understood that it was difficult for Harry to face what he used to have in a past life when he already felt he didn't measure up to the expectations of people in his current one. Juushirou hadn't challenged the limitations of his illness until much later either. For now they would be patient and supportive. The memories were a burden, but not so terrible that they couldn't leave Harry a bit more time.

The other problem Sougyo no Kotowari faced was a bit more complicated, and more pressing. It had everything to do with the fact that they were _deadly weapons_ , not just the playful, childish spirits Harry knew them as. Manjushage was a wand, not a Zanpakutou, and did not have the same problem. A wand was far more tool than weapon, and she was very young still. She was safe enough for Harry to handle freely. But Sougyo no Kotowari weren't that benign. Not at their core. They could feign it, but a mask was all it was.

They were Zanpakutou. Their core was a killing blade.

With Juushirou, it hadn't been a problem. By the time he had awakened them he was already walking the path to become a Shinigami. The viciousness and lethality of his own soul had not bothered him much and they had fought together often.

Harry, on the other hand, was a civilian child raised in a society that looked down on violence as something vile and considered death to be one of the worst fates imaginable. Under ordinary circumstances, Harry would never have found their name this soon. Not without a single serious fight to his name.

But Harry was not ordinary. Nowhere near close. Unlike any other Shinigami he had _remembered_ his Zanpakutou's name instead of finding it. In a way, that was fine. Part of him was still Juushirou, and Juushirou had earned the right to their name a thousand times over.

Yet at the same time, _Harry_ had not. He was new and untried, for all that he held part of Juushirou's memories. Their soul was still the same, but _Harry_ had not earned the right to call on his soul's power.

Sougyo no Kotowari loved their wielder and would not withhold their name from him. Harry had found them fairly. His actions had allowed him to hear their voices, and that on its own was proof that he had a right to it. His honour and courage to gather the remains of a past that frightened him deeply had impressed them enough to happily allow him that liberty. The memories were sealed, but he kept them despite the fear they invoked, even when leaving them to be destroyed would have been so much easier. Sougyo no Kotowari could appreciate that courage.

However, they _could_ withhold their power, even mere knowledge about it, until the time was right. And Sougyo no Kotowari had to, no matter how much their nature rebelled against it.

Their wielder had found them, but he had not tried to make them his own. Had not even tried to reach for the power he knew they held. They had not moved or fought together like Shinigami and Zanpakutou should. Until that time, Harry had not claimed them fully. Until then, they _couldn't_ give him all of themselves. No matter how much they wanted to whenever he used their name.

That was the truth and the nature of Zanpakutou. The right to wield them had to be sought, not given. Had to be _earned_ through blood and tears and deep unyielding determination. They were the embodiment of the most dangerous part of his soul, a _weapon,_ and like any other weapon they needed to be handled properly. A Zanpakutou's power without a will of steel behind it was deadly only to its wielder. Like any other wielder Harry would have to prove he could handle it, before they would grant him that privilege.

That took time. Time, and the right circumstances to nurture the warrior that slept within their wielder.

Sougyo no Kotowari wondered if they should speak to Harry about this. Wondered whether telling him about their true nature would aid or hinder him. They knew he worried about their lack of change since their previous life. They knew Harry feared they weren't as much his as they assured him they were. Even just offering a few hints might help…

But no. Regardless of the answer, they knew they would not speak up on their own. They would aid and advice their wielder if he asked, but they would not just hand the solution over. Not when Harry hadn't even started asking the right questions. He would never learn to know himself that way.

That was alright. Their instincts cried for a proper bond, but Harry wasn't even dead yet. When he died and lost the limitations of his human body their desire would become far more urgent, but that time was still a long time away. They had a whole life worth of time to prepare him. And then an afterlife as well. Even if he was not ready to wield them yet, Sougyo no Kotowari already belonged to Harry wholly. They were his Zanpakutou, and would never belong to any other soul. Their wielder only needed to find the resolve to pick them up. To be their wielder in truth as well as name.

There was no rush. Their wielder was young and curious, and finally, _finally,_ in a position to follow his own wishes.

They had all the time they needed.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Manjushage fairly danced as she reflected on their time in Hogwarts so far. They had learned so much already. Simple tricks, yes, but enjoyable ones. There was no greater delight than working together with her wielder to craft a spell into its proper form.

Her wielder. Her chosen. She whistled a tune Sougyo no Kotowari had taught her, pleased with herself and the world. She couldn't have picked better.

Manjushage smiled in reminiscence. The first time Harry had picked her up had been like waking from a deep sleep. Before him she hadn't been truly conscious. Dreaming, half-asleep and barely aware, she had sensed his touch. Something about it had sung to her. Felt warm and inviting and interesting. Like a hand held out to be grasped. Before she'd even realized it, she had reached back.

It had felt like a slot clicking into place. An emptiness being filled. Like finding a home when you never knew you wanted one.

He had taken her with him, and the soothing warmth of his presence had lulled her back to sleep. The next time she'd woken, she'd been within his Inner World. Held in the hands of beings that felt-like-yet-did-not-quite-match the one she had reached out to.

She had still been formless and shapeless then. A little ball of light, like a tiny star, the twins had told her. She hadn't known at the time, as she hadn't been big enough to look at herself then.

The twins had been frightening at first. She hadn't sensed them when her chosen first touched her, hidden as they were within the depths of Harry's soul. But from up close it had been easy to tell that they were vastly more powerful and dangerous than her. Ancient and knowable in a way she could not even come close to matching. While their hold was gentle, their warning wasn't. And it had been a dire warning indeed. They swore that if she'd ever dare harm their wielder, ever even entertained the thought of doing so, they would only allow her time to thoroughly regret her choice before they destroyed her.

She had been angry then. Had straightened and spat at them in affront, despite being as tiny as she had been. She had not known many things yet back then, but she already knew she would never harm the one who had woken her. He was her chosen, and she was his for as long as he would have her.

The twins' approval had felt like warm sunlight. They had nursed her then, carried her through her chosen's Inner World and let her absorb the energy therein, talking to her and showing her around to fill the blank, shapeless void within her. Their gentle urging had caused her to grow and change, as their support allowed her to adapt to her chosen and take proper form far more swiftly than she would have ever been able to do alone.

When Harry had come to the House that evening, she had achieved a steady enough shape to meet him properly.

And then he had given her her Name.

It had been the final touch, the final key to completing her transformation, to the bond the twins had helped her nurture. Immediately after Harry had left she had slept again, and when she woke her bond with him had been thrumming with life, strong and steady as a tree in its prime. Her appearance had shifted a little, not just reflecting the elements of her physical body but her name as well.

The flower he had named her with she had tucked into her hair. It had seemed fitting, and had made the twins smile and laugh. It matched the flowers that now bloomed along the underside of her kimono well, so it was not as if it looked misplaced on her.

She still wore it to this day. Harry had marvelled over its complete and utter lack of wilting, but Manjushage could not see why. It was _her_ flower. There was no reason for it to wilt.

A tiny giggle interrupted her whistling. She looked around and set her hands in her sides when she didn't see anyone.

"Alright Casper, I know you're there," she called. "Come on, show yourself."

She waited for a moment, but all she got was another giggle. She huffed. "If you come here I'll sing for you," she promised.

A small shape shimmered into view before her, drifting on a barely-there breeze like an oddly-shaped dandelion puff. A wide grin decorated the round face, arms wide and large grey eyes pleading.

Manjushage smiled and allowed the small, baby-like spirit to land in her arms. Casper looked even younger than her and was therefore relatively easy to carry. His white hair floated around him like a cloud and tickled her nose.

She had to admit, when Harry first got the invisibility cloak she had not expected a new spirit to appear in their world. But the small spirit was not nearly as much as an intrusion as she had feared. It was quite welcome company in fact, and Manjushage was glad to no longer be the only young spirit around. Casper couldn't speak – or at least, he hadn't yet – but the spirit was friendly and slightly mischievous, like a kitten that liked to get tangled up in balls of yarn.

Sougyo no Kotowari liked the little spirit a lot and were convinced he was some form of tsukumogami. After their explanation Manjushage could see why. The spirit of the invisibility cloak looked like a miniature version of the cloak that had grown a head and hands. The rest of him was all loose silvery fabric that floated around a non-existent body.

Harry had named his new spirit after a cartoon he had sometimes managed to sneak peeks of while Dudley was watching television. Casper's pale complexion had reminded him of the cartoon ghost. Sougyo no Kotowari had been surprised that the little spirit had not minded a name with so little personal meaning. Their own name had layers and layers of meaning behind it, as did Manjushage's. Their names fit because subconsciously, they had been _made_ to fit. Like hand in hand. Like keys and locks. Like sunlight and warmth, one without the other was just not _right._ Deep down their names resonated with their very being.

Casper's lacked that complexity, that echo of rightness. It was… just a name. And Casper was _content_ with that. As if a name was no part of its being.

It was very odd, but maybe that was just the way it was for magical cloaks. Maybe Casper just did not need one like Zanpakutou and wands did.

Humming a tune, she continued to wander around the House. Harry was spending time with his friends at the moment, so there was little for her to do but watch Harry's Inner World. Which was just as well. Sougyo no Kotowari had told her it was important for any spirit to roam around their wielder's Inner World. Seeing it grow and change and watch how shifting beliefs could alter it; all were important for a spirit to understand their wielder. Sougyo no Kotowari themselves had done so extensively after being awakened to get a good grasp on how their wielder thought and worked so they could support him better.

"We are the manifestation of Harry's powers, the embodiment of his true self. We are shaped by his very nature. But our relationship is not a one-way road. We shape him just as much as he shaped us." Sougyo no Kotowari had looked oddly wistful when they had said that. "To do that right we must learn how we can reach the results we desire. Being careless would harm all of us. We are the closest to him, the most trusted, and if we make a wrong decision we can do great harm. That's why we always need to watch our wielder." They had smiled at her. "You have linked to his soul. You are part of him too now, and if you wish to aid him you will need to learn how. Observe carefully, and learn to know him."

Manjushage had followed their advice dutifully. She had watched and learned about Harry's past and unhappy home life. She had seen her wielder's world become brighter and livelier with his arrival at Hogwarts. No longer were the memories of his parents the only memories of his own that decorated the House. Hogwarts had given Harry many he wished to keep mementos of.

As a result, the House contained an increasingly odd mix of brand new and near-broken objects. The new objects were still vastly outnumbered, but compared to the numbers before Hogwarts, they had increased at a tremendous pace. Which could only be a good thing, according to Sougyo no Kotowari. It would help balance things.

Seeing how many objects still remained from the past, Manjushage had to wonder how immense the collection of the previous life had once been. Sougyo no Kotowari did not recall much details in that regard, but they knew that before the death of Juushirou the House had been filled to the brim and much had been scattered through the Garden besides. What remained now was only a fraction of what once had been. Only the strongest memories and the most fundamental of knowledge had survived death in one piece. Everything else was all hazy and confused, faint and elusive as mist.

It was saddening, to think how much had been lost.

Manjushage was pulled out of her musings when stubby little fingers reached for one of the inked talismans the twins had painstakingly put on every memory-object from Harry's past life.

"No, Casper," Manjushage scolded taking a step back so the little spirit couldn't touch it anymore. "You know you're not allowed to play with those."

With a huff, she inspected the slip of paper to ensure Casper hadn't pulled it loose. "Some might bind, others might bury, but with our forms this is what is right. We seal and subdue with will and focus and written words," Sougyo no Kotowari had sing-songed when they renewed the paper seals and had checked the lights in the lights in the stone garden lanterns. Ofuda, they had called the slips of paper that kept ancient memories at bay. The lanterns were more general defences. "We originally created them to defend against a violation of the mind, but they do work to keep the memories from appearing in dreams too often," they had explained.

Manjushage nodded to herself. The paper hadn't come off. She carefully suppressed the part of her that felt disappointed at that. Wistfully she looked at the many broken relics. She could understand Casper's impulse. A previous life… she was so curious about it. The twins had told her stories, but that just wasn't the same.

Not that she was every tempted to release the seals the twins had so carefully crafted. Not when she knew her chosen desired them buried with a reason. Harry would unseal them, or not, when the time was right. Until then… well. Humans did not consider patience a virtue because it was _easy_. But she could handle it.

She had to. She didn't want to harm her wielder by prying at things best left alone for now.

She only hoped she would not have to wait _too_ long.

With a sigh she turned her back on temptation, carrying Casper with her.

XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX(xxxx)XXX

Time… might not be in as large supply as Sougyo no Kotowari had thought. When the twins had considered challenges they hadn't counted on Harry being sent to the on a mission like this. Were the professors _mad?_

Smuggling a dragon had been okay. At least Ron's brother had been intelligent enough to realize Hagrid wasn't all that good at safety measures, and had sent him an enchanted crate to transport the dragon in. Of course, with the dragon inside the package could no longer be entrusted to a parliament of owls so naturally couriers had been needed. They were still of the opinion that Hagrid should have brought the crate to the tower himself, but letting their wielder and his friends handle it had seemed quite harmless at the time. They were a great deal better at subtlety for one, so as far as strategy went that had actually been a good idea. And even when poor clumsy Neville had tripped and fallen so hard they couldn't avoid being found by Filch, they hadn't thought their wielder would get more than a valuable lesson in the consequences of getting caught. And the value of fast hands, as Harry had managed to hide the cloak behind a statue before Filch had caught sight of it.

Sougyo no Kotowari weren't feeling that charitable now. _Detention_ McGonagall had called it.

Into the Forest. _Into the Forest._ Three eleven year old children that had not even a full year of training were sent into the Forbidden Forest to look for unicorns that were killed by an unknown predator. A predator that hadn't even been _identified_ yet. What was wrong with cleaning cauldrons or scrubbing toilets, if usefulness was so important?

They might just prefer Ryuujin Jakka's wielder's punishments over this, and _those_ consisted of beating people within an inch of their lives. Literally, if he was mad enough. But at least that was a person doing it, who knew when enough was enough and how to avoid causing permanent damage. Hunting down injured prey with their mysterious predator still on the loose? What were the odds that it would leave children alone? They'd rather trust one of the Eleventh to decline a good fight than an unknown hunter to forfeit easy prey.

Now, if the group had stayed together it might have been fine. Predators usually avoided large groups, and the spirits could easily believe that even the braver ones would think twice before attacking Hagrid. But that didn't happen. Instead, once they were in the forest, Hagrid _split them up._ Malfoy and Neville were a bad matchup to go off alone, but at least it meant their wielder was in a relatively safe position. Harry didn't have any combat training and all the spells he knew were mere parlour tricks. He was nowhere near ready for a fight if the predator found them.

They were very glad that Harry had been able to retrieve the cloak the day after the dragon fiasco. They wouldn't wish their wielder without it right now.

Of course, Malfoy then had to do something stupid, and while Neville had tried to keep a tough front on the way, Malfoy's ill-timed idiocy was a bit too much. And instead of doing the sensible thing and keeping all three children with him, Hagrid decided to just switch Harry and Neville around.

Sougyo no Kotowari wished they could believe Hagrid about Harry being safe as long as Harry was with his dog but they already had plenty of proof that Hagrid could be a bit… short-sighted when it came to safety.

Killing a unicorn was supposed to be hard. Sougyo no Kotowari rather doubted that anything capable of that would have much difficulties killing two eleven year olds and a cowardly dog.

But they couldn't tell Harry that. Not if they wanted him thinking instead of letting nervousness turn into panic.

Panic was a sane reaction, but it wasn't _useful._

Though the way it looked now, Harry would be able to handle knowing what they knew. For his first time having to navigate a situation with potential life-threatening danger they couldn't flee from, he was holding it together very well, listening to their instructions with concentrated dedication. They were sure that he was far more aware of the kind of danger they were in than the complaining Malfoy-brat, who was not so subtly getting more and more fearful the deeper they went into the forest.

They were proud of their wielder. Harry chose not to remember Juushirou's life, but some instincts had survived death and there was no way Sougyo no Kotowari would keep _those_ away from him. So far he was responding to them beautifully. They could feel Harry was already partially aware of the danger the unknown predator posed, and he discussed possible solutions with his spirits accordingly.

And he had feared Gryffindor might not suit him. Ha!

"If it can catch unicorns then running won't do any good. You will either have to stand your ground or try to climb a tree. Though the latter might be difficult. This forest is a bit too old to offer easy climbing spots, so keep your eyes peeled for a good one," they told him.

 _:Stand my ground? How would that help_ me _?:_ Harry asked contemplatively, feeling around the edges of the idea without knowing quite why it felt right. _:Wouldn't I be easier to eat then?:_

"That depends on the creature. A lot of predators see anything that flees as prey," one half of their selves stated.

"So if you do not flee, you might avoid being attacked. That is not to say you should not retreat. You just should not _run._ Or turn your back to it," their other self finished.

 _:No running, no looking away. Okay.:_ They could feel the deep, shaky breath Harry took at that. A deliberate calm that rustled through the leaves of the Garden like a wayward breeze. _:I can do that.:_

"And continue to watch your surroundings even when you happen to encounter it. There are more dangers in the forest than just the one you're looking for," Sougyo no Kotowari warned in unison. "We don't even know whether it is just one creature or a group of them."

_:Right. Malfoy already mentioned werewolves. … Which doesn't make sense right? I mean, aren't werewolves only supposed to transform during a full moon? It is not full yet.:_

Sougyo no Kotowari shrugged, knowing he could feel it.

"Maybe there are different kinds?" Manjushage suggested, thrumming with barely suppressed eagerness to pit herself against anything that might attack her chosen. Sougyo no Kotowari wanted to tease their kouhai about how adorable she looked when she was determined, but now was not the time. "Some permanently transformed and others human, perhaps?"

 _:I don't know,:_ was Harry's troubled reply.

"Worst come to worst, use Casper," Sougyo no Kotowari said firmly. "We don't know if this thing hunts by scent or by sight, but Casper should at least confuse it. You could try to hit it with the levitation charm or the leg-locker curse afterwards. That should hopefully slow it down."

And who knew? Casper loved Harry and always made extra effort to hide him completely. They suspected from encounters with Mrs Norris that Casper dimmed sound and smell as well. It might just be enough to escape.

 _:Alright. But Malfoy will probably not stand still long enough.:_ And no matter how much Harry disliked the other boy, he didn't want him to get eaten. But he didn't want to reveal Casper either. Malfoy was petty enough to try and get him in trouble with it, like he had tried with Norbert. Maybe not immediately, but definitely when they were back at the castle.

"You can't save anyone if you cannot save yourself," Sougyo no Kotowari replied. "He is not your responsibility. If he runs you shoot red sparks and hope Fang is as good as Hagrid said. You save yourself _first_."

Their wielder had a good heart. They could feel his misery when he gave them his word.

Sougyo no Kotowari felt a bit bad. If Neville had been with him they would not have been so harsh. But unlike Neville Malfoy was unlikely to listen to anything Harry said and would not appreciate Harry's aid the way he should. Worst came to worst, Malfoy would have to deal on his own. Their wielder's wellbeing had priority. And if they had to push their wielder to be ruthless for that…

Well. They were swords, not stuffed animals. When their wielder required them to act they would do so, and compassion would not limit their actions. As for Manjushage, she was a lot gentler in nature than Sougyo no Kotowari but she was quite pragmatic. When push came to shove, she would place Harry's wellbeing before anyone else's without remorse.

In that there was no difference between tool and weapon; your wielder came _first_.

Wandering the Forest, Sougyo no Kotowari and Manjushage used all their wielder's senses to try to detect the faintest trace of danger, hoping to find it before Harry was found in return. A sense of foreboding hung in the air. It increased with every splash of quicksilver blood they found. The gleaming trail had gone on for so long they had to be getting close. Sougyo no Kotowari couldn't imagine that a unicorn could survive losing much more than this.

Then Harry and his two companions broke into a small clearing. Something white gleamed on the ground, as if a piece of the moon had descended from the sky in the shape of a horse. The unicorn was beautiful the way a perfect tragedy was, lovely like rainbows in a fractured mirror, or falling sakura in spring. A sorrowful beauty.

Death had already claimed it when they arrived.

The small group was just about to approach the fallen unicorn when something slithered out of the bushes. A being that looked like a human in a hooded cloak crawled to the corpse and sucked the blood from the leaking wounds.

Malfoy screamed and fled, and Fang bolted with him. The creature raised its head and met their wielder's eyes.

The stone lanterns of the Garden flared brightly, ghostly flames leaping as if fed by an unexpected wind. Sougyo no Kotowari's lips curled. Whatever the being was, it had just attacked them.

Manjushage shouted as she threw her power behind the curse Harry fired in return. The being collapsed with a very human-sounding grunt as its legs locked together so tightly they might as well have turned to stone.

Wait… That wasn't a mere creature!

" _Run!"_ Sougyo no Kotowari yelled. Harry obeyed immediately, scattering red sparks in his wake to call for Hagrid and hopefully blind the person he just attacked as well, using the bright flares of crimson light as a weapon against night-adapted eyes.

Something horse-like thundered past Harry. It startled them all, but as it seemed to focus on their attacker they opted to ignore it for a moment. Jumping behind the cover of a large tree Harry threw the invisibility cloak over his shoulders and pulled the hood so far over his head that even his chin was covered. Casper immediately disappeared from sight, putting his all into concealing Harry. The last thing they saw was an expression of raw determination that oddly suited the little spirit's child-like face.

Sougyo no Kotowari released their breath slowly, urging Harry to favour silence over speed with forced calm.

 _:W-what was that?:_ Harry asked, shakily. He kept a wary ear on the sound of hooves and the rustling slither of something cloaked fleeing at great speed. The horse-being that had passed them seemed to wander a little but not particularly inclined to come after them. The sound of hooves faded slowly as Harry moved further away.

"Something far too human," Sougyo no Kotowari replied darkly. Their eyes strayed to the stone lanterns, whose light had returned to normal levels.

"Something we have encountered before too," they added grimly, remembering previous instances where the defences they had once created to ward off an enemy's abilities had flared without apparent reason. They hadn't been able to identify the cause before, but with the culprit right in front of them the riddle was not hard to solve.

The thing that killed unicorns didn't come from the Forest.

It came from Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, part of the reason why this chapter is late is because I found my own story on a different site when I have never given anyone permission to put it there, and I spend some time being pissed off as hell. This incident is related to fanfiction. net so I will not bother you with the rant I put up there, but I felt you all deserved an explanation. Since this incident has made me a little paranoid: I have made a list on my profile on fanfiction. net that I keep up to date on where I post my works, and where I will add links to translations I have given permission for (if anyone ever wants to do one; so far their number is exactly zero). I did not put the list on my profile on this site as well because of the restrictions on number of words here. If you find my work on a site or account that is not on that list, no matter if it's a mirror site or whatever, you have found a thief. Please report that person to the admins of whatever website they use and inform me so I can keep an eye on it.
> 
> Tsukumogami = an item that, after a certain amount of years, has gained life/a spirit living in them.  
> Kouhai = junior (at work or school)
> 
> Thank you and till next time!
> 
> UPDATE: Yay, I have awesome readers! The plagiarism issue is now fixed.


End file.
